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THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

THE NOTE-BOOK OF AN 
AMERICAN AMBULANCIER 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/whiteroadofmysteOOorcu 



THE WHITE ROAD 
OF MYSTERY 



THE NOTE-BOOK OF AN 
AMERICAN AMBULANCIER 



BY 

PHILIP DANA ORCUTT 

AMERICAN AMBULANCE FIELD SERVICE 

Section xxxi 



Illustrated with Photographs 



NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY 
LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD 

1918 



'V 



/ 



COPYRIGHT, I918 
BY JOHN LANE COMPANY 



THE'PLIMPTON-PRES 
NOEWOOD-MASS-U'S* 



JUL 15 1918 
©CI.A501168 



To 
SECTION THIRTY-ONE 

to all other sections of the 

American Field Service 

and to those who have 

made them possible 



Preface 

X HE position of the ambulance driver 
at the front is much the same as that 
of the grouse in open season: every 
one has a chance to take a shot at him 
and he has no opportunity for retaha- 
tion. That is why so many drivers 
entered aviation or artillery at the expi- 
ration of their term of enUstment of six 
months. 

This transferring came to an end when 
the American Government took over the 
Ambulance Service. From then on, all 
drivers have been of necessity enlisted 
men. The old American Ambulance, later 
called the American Field Service, was 
a purely volunteer organization, and 
had no connection with any govern- 
ment. It was made up of American 
citizens who left civil Hfe, paying their 

[9] 



PREFACE 

own expenses and furnishing their own 
equipment, and in many cases their 
ambulances. These men, feeling that 
America owed a debt to France, banded 
together to form the original American 
Ambulance Service, which they laid on 
the altar of their devotion to a true and 
great cause. 

By virtue of the nature of his work 
the ambulance driver must always be in 
the warmest places, and has a really un- 
usual opportunity to observe by moving 
from sector to sector and battle to bat- 
tle what few other branches of the serv- 
ice can see. 

I had the honor to be associated with 
Section xxxi of the American Field Serv- 
ice, and have endeavored to weave my 
simple tapestry from the swiftly-moving 
pictures of life "in the zone" and out 

of it, as they passed before me. 

p. D. o. 

Boston, June, 1918 

[10] 



Contents 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY . IQ 

II. IN ACTION 4l 

III. EN REPOS . 87 

IV. AT THE FRONT II7 

V. l'envoi l5l 

GLOSSARY 171 



["] 



Illustrations 



PAGE 



AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE, SECTION XXXI 4 

A SAUCISSE 33 

BRANCARDIERS LOADING AN AMBULANCE 67 

AN ABRI 77 

A DIVISION EN REPOS g5 

NORMAL TRAFFIC AT THE FRONT . . . l3l 

TAKING A LOAD FROM THE ABRI ... l47 



[i3] 



Prelude 

X HE siDeet, clear notes of a bugle come 
faintly up to me through the cool air of 
morning, and as the sound dies away I hear 
the great guns begin their bombardment, the 
rumbling echoes merging into the matin 
chimes wafted across the valley from some 
small church as yet unscarred by Mars, 

Reveille, the summons, calls man from 
his peaceful, prenatal slumber, rouses him 
and bids him prepare for what the world 
will send him. Man goes forth to meet the 
world, and struggles through his allotted 
timel until the bells of God ring for him to 
fold himself in his soul and sleep. 



Ci5] 



I 

THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 



A 



SHARP whistle cuts the tense silence. 
It is the signal to start. It marks the Una 
which breaks the past from the futm-e; 
it is the boundary between the Known 
and the Unknown, and the frontier where 
duty and service merge. For a second, 
as the .motors race, there is commotion 
— quickly settHng into a rhythmic whir. 
The men are in their seats with some- 
what of an echo of that whir in their 
hearts. The lieutenant's car rolls slowly 
out of the gate, foUowed by the chefs, 
and in turn by the others of the section, 
and as the last car crosses the threshold 
there is a cheer from the friends gathered 
to bid us Godspeed, — for Section xxxi is 
born. 



Wi 



E are off. We do not know where 
we are going. After a number of in- 
terminable delays and halts we pass 

[19] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

through the gates of the city, and leave 
behind the last vestige of the Known. 
Ahead of us the road stretches white in 
the sunlight — the white road of mystery 
leading on to adventure and redemp- 
tion. We have ceased to be our own 
masters. We are units, cogs in the 
machine, infinitesimal pawns in the giant 
game, and move as the dust which rises 
from the car ahead — where we know 
not, why we know not, — and how we 
often wonder! 



G 



lONVOY formation allows, by the 
book, for an interval of twenty feet be- 
tween cars when passing through cities, 
and for one hundred feet when in the 
country. The flesh, however, is weak. 
In cities it is rare indeed to see cars 
separated by more than a nose except in 
spasms, while in the country a matter of 
miles is unimportant. A convoy is Kke a 
pack of dogfe on the hunt, racing pell mell 

[20] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

Up hill and down dale one minute, and 
crawling the next, with an occasional dog 
straying off and losing itself for an in- 
definite length of time. 

For example, we come to some small 
town where we are to have lunch. We 
arrive in a hurry and with much dust, the 
first few cars in close formation, nose to 
tail, the last a few miles in the rear. 
Suddenly the driver of the leading car, 
who has been admiring the scenery on the 
right of the road, sees the chef standing on 
the left making frantic motions for him 
to stop. Perhaps the driver puts out his 
hand, perhaps he does not. At any rate, 
he applies the brakes and comes to a dead 
stop — for an instant. The driver of the 
second car may have been adjusting his 
carburetor or observing an aeroplane, or a 
peasant girl, or a map — the exact object is 
beside the question. He suddenly comes 
to earth when he finds his charge vahantly 
trying to climb over the car in front — 

[21] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

more brakes. Of course there is a third 
car, and possibly a fourth, or more, which 
demand attention. The final result ad- 
vances the leading car some feet, decreases 
the supply of spare radiators, and as a 
rule does not contribute to the general 
harmony. 

One or more cars must always have 
taken the wrong road, and lead a hare 
and hound chase for some minutes be- 
fore the final roundup, leaving for clues 
numerous peasants who, when queried, 
always know just where it went. Of 
course, by the law of chance, some one 
of these has undoubtedly seen it, and the 
lost is eventually found. 

There was one particular member of 
our section who was a rover at soul, and 
led several interesting hunts. A Httle 
later in the season this same rover took 
a by-road and started through the Hesse 
Forest for Germany. Our whole pack 
was called out, and after an exciting 

[22] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

chase he was jfinally caught and con- 
vinced of his error. Fortunately for 
both him and us the chef has a sense of 
humor, and the section, in spite of our 
many innocent attempts to disintegrate 
it and take individual excursions to dif- 
ferent parts of France, continues to be 
a unit. 

For five days we proceed thus, with 
the white road stretching out in front 
and the brown dust trailing behind. 
We stop to get gasoline, to eat, and to 
sleep. We begin to near the front, and 
pass through town after town of roof- 
less houses, shattered churches, and scat- 
tered homes. Through fields dotted with 
wooden crosses with the tricolored rib- 
bon, and pock-marked with shell-holes. 
We pass aeroplane hangars and batteries 
of guns. We see more saucisses in the 
sky and soldiers on the ground. The 
hand of the Hun lies heavy on the land, 
and his poison breath scorches the grass 

[23] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

of the fields. We see fewer civilians and 
more steel helmets, and yet the rimable 
of the gmis is no louder. But there is 
a certain breath of power and energy in 
the air, and one feels himself waiting for 
something to happen. 

Something does — an infuriated bull 
charges Rover's car and picks off one of 
his headhghts. Rover reverses hastily 
and unhesitatingly into the car behind, 
while the farmer's wife makes her ap- 
pearance, drives off the bull, and saves 
Rover from extermination. 

Then, one afternoon, we arrive at our 
point of embarkation, so to speak. It is 
Bar-le-Duc, sixty kilometres from Verdun, 
and by virtue of its being the one city in 
many miles, the meeting place of the 
world, which is to say, of com-se, our 
sector of front — when en repos. 



B 



>AR-LE-DUC, the old stronghold of 
the feudal dukes of Bar, nestling in the 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

valley on the banks of the slow -moving 
Ornain, tributary to the River Maine, 
and with la ville haute trespassing far 
onto one ridge, and the ruined castle 
frowning down from the other, is a town 
of memories and traditions which greets 
this war as but another chapter in the 
never-ending book of its history. It has 
two large and ancient cathedrals, the 
one crowning the upper city — now quite 
naturally in ruins, as the enemy, by this 
time a connoisseur in churches, makes 
frequent air raids. The chateau — con- 
sidered quite modern as it is but two hun- 
dred years of age — has mellowed into the 
surroundings by now, and forms a suf- 
j&ciently integral part of the beauty of 
the city to be likewise a target for our 
* * considerate ' ' neighbor. 

One evening, as the last rays of the 
sun ghnted from its roof, it stood sohd 
and strong, — ready to do battle with 
the elements for many centuries more, 

[25] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

but while the city lay quiet in the cold 
moonlight of an August night, the sound 
of purring motors broke the silence from 
above. The contre-avions crashed, and 
the yellow shrapnel broke in the sky 
often a mile from its invisible target, 
and never near enough to arrest the ad- 
vance of the raiders, who suddenly shut 
off their motors and, as often before, 
swooped silently down on their motion- 
less prey, and dropped their bombs. 
Then, turning on their motors, they 
cHmbed and glided over the city again 
and again until, having dropped their 
entire cargo, they flew off. But in the 
morning the chateau no longer stood 
proudly up from the river mist, and 
another buttress against the ravages of 
the elements had crumbled into untimely 
ruins. 

The main street of the town is denuded 
of its plate glass, and more houses crumble 
each time the enemy reports "mihtary 

[26] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

advantage gained" by an indiscriminate 
slaughter of the future crop of France's 
defenders, and those heroic souls who 
bear them. 

The town is noted for its manufactures, 
its wines, and its confitures. As to the 
first-named I know Httle, but as to the 
merits of its wines, its liqueurs, and its 
confitures I cannot say enough, nor can 
many thousands of others who seek out 
Bar-le-Duc as the one sanctuary from 
the mud and deprivations of the rest 
of their existence, and bask gloriously 
in the discomforts of its civilization for 
a few stolen hours. 



c 



ONVOY formation again, the cars 
freshly washed and glistening in the 
sunlight, — for a few minutes, before 
the grey cloud of dust pouring from the 
cars in front settles on us again. We 
come to a turn. A large sign greets us, 
Souilly — vers Verdun, emphasized by a 

[27] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

giant arrow pointing in the direction we 
take. We are instantly sure that this 
is to be our headquarters. Verdun is 
a name we have long wished to visualize. 
At the first stop we tell each other the 
great news. While we are grouped in 
the road a big grey limousine carrying 
three generals dashes past. Every one 
salutes, and by a miracle we are noticed 
and the salute is returned. Cheerful 
liar at once informs us that they were 
Joffre, PetaiQ, and — he is at a loss for 
the third name. W^e help him out — 
Hindenburg perhaps. 

But we are doomed to bitter disap- 
pointment. Thirty kilometres from the 
famous city we are given orders to park 
our cars in a pile of ruins formerly 
known as Erize — Erize la petite, and 
well named. 



E 



RIZE is, without exception, the dull- 
est place beneath the sun — a small town, 

[28] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

now a mass of crumbling ruins, holding 
not above two dozen civilians, who are, 
for the most part, still less interesting 
than the town. Of course, there are 
Grand'mere and Grand-pere, no relation 
to each other, but so christened by us 
because they are the only two octoge- 
narians here. Grand'mere is not properly 
from Erize. Her home is somewhere 
north of Verdun, in a town with an 
impronounceable name and long since 
destroyed. She, herself, carries proudly 
on her wrinkled forehead a two-inch scar 
from shrapnel, and informs us tearfully 
that her two sons have died in action, 
''pour la patrie,'" she concludes, with a 
faint smile. 

I met Grand'mere for the first time 
when I picked an unripe apple from an 
overburdened tree. The old woman ap- 
peared from the depths of a nearby 
building and advanced menacingly to- 
wards me, hobbhng along on a cane, 

C29] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

and pouring forth as she came an unin- 
telligible tirade from which I gathered 
that the apple reposing guiltily in my 
hand was hers — not mine. A single 
jranc served to wreathe her face in smiles 
and to obtain undisputed claim to the 
apple and her good graces in the future. 
Ira furor brevis est I afterwards learned 
that houses in Erize rent for fifty francs a 
year, this including several acres of farm 
land. 

Grand-pere, aged ninety-eight, I met 
near the temporary kitchen where the 
cook was giving him a cup of Pinard, 
which he drank eagerly, while Grand'mere 
gave him wise counsel, to which he repKed 
as Omar Khayyam might have done. 

But they are the only characters of 
interest here. The fields surroundiug 
the town have as their redeeming feature 
a system of old trenches, with much 
barbed wire and an occasional shell-frag- 
ment to reward the searcher. The 
[So] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

German advance was stopped less than 
a mile from here, and the trenches have 
been used since for practice. 

The dugouts interest us particularly. 
We are later to become surfeited with 
them, but as yet they are still dehghtfully 
novel. The rumble of the guns can be 
heard plainly from here, and at rare 
intervals a saucisse rises on the horizon, 
much to our joy and excitement. 

X HE saucisse is a balloon shaped like 
a sausage — hence its name. At the 
front they are in the sky by the hundreds 
on both sides to direct the fire of the 
artillery and to observe the enemy's 
operations generally. They are conse- 
quently made the objective of the aero- 
plane, and many are brought down every 
day. The aeroplane dodges along from 
cloud to cloud, and when he is just over 
the saucisse suddenly swoops down, and 
with a tic-tic-tic from his machine-gun 

[3i] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

the bag crumples up in a cloud of black 
smoke and flames, the observer jumps 
out with his parachute, and the aeroplane 
dashes off pursued by many shells. 

In the balloons the observers all have 
parachutes and usually make their es- 
cape, although often they have to spend 
a httle time danghng from the limb of 
some tree. 



w. 



E are told not to stray far, as the 
order to move may come at any moment. 
We take walks through the country, and 
always on returning find the section with 
"no news,"^ — but at last the order comes. 
We have gotten our baggage ready, 
and are sitting around in the darkness 
smoking our pipes and thinking. To- 
morrow we are going up to the lines. 
A big attack has been scheduled, and we 
are to take care of the wounded. It is 
to be our first work, and any fighting at 
all seems a "big attack" to us. We are 

[32] 




^^ 



A SAUCISSE 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

a green section, fresh from Paris. We 
have never heard a shell whistle, and 
have been thrilled by the sound of guns 
twerity miles away. What will be our 
sensations face to face with the real 
thing? We are a bit nervous. There is 
some tension. We discuss the probable 
extent of the attack and debate as to its 
success. This leads us nowhere, arid 
after we have pledged each other and the 
section ''Bonne chance'' in a glass of 
cognac from a bottle opened for the occa- 
sion, we turn in. 



I 



T is cold and chill, and a steady drizzle 
is oozing from the sky above into the 
earth beneath, and is making it soft and 
sKppery. I awake, yawn, stretch sleepily, 
and gaze out into the grey dejection of 
the morning. I have been sleeping lux- 
uriously on the floor of an ambulance, 
wedged in between two trunks and a 
duffle-bag. 

[35] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

"Well, this is 'der Tag' for us," I re- 
mark to a friend, who has spent the night 
on top of the two trunks. 

He stops eating my jam for an instant 
and agrees with me. Then, on second 
thought, he generously offers me some 
jam. I sit up and struggle for a few 
seconds with a piece of the bread we 
carry for nourishment and defence, spread 
some jam on it, get out a bottle of Sau- 
terne (at the front wine is wine at all 
hours of the day and night), and we 
settle down to breakfast. Breakfast is 
a purely personal investment, as it offi- 
cially consists of coffee — so called by 
courtesy — and bread. The French bread 
comes in round loaves a foot in diameter, 
and is never issued until four days old, 
and is often aged ten or more before we 
see it. Fresh bread, it is beheved, would 
give a soldier indigestion. French offi- 
cialdom beheves the same evil of water, 
and provides each soldier with a quart 
[36] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

a day of cheap red wine called, in the 
argot of the trenches, Pinard, Break- 
fast over, we make our way to the barn, 
our official quarters, by means of stepping- 
stones previously laid from the car, and 
chat with the other members of the 
section. 

Today we are moving up into the zone 
of fire itself, and are somewhat excited. 
The entire section is to move to a Ht- 
tle destroyed town, Ville-sur-Couzances. 
From there six cars are always to be on 
duty taking care of our first wounded. 
The chef and the sous-chef join us pres- 
ently. They went up yesterday and were 
shown the posies, and consequently come 
in for a storm of questions. The sous-chef 
tells us that today we shall hear them 
"whistle both ways." We are thriUed. 
He asks us if we are ready. We are — 
even Rover. Then the Heutenant comes 
in. He speaks a few words to the chef. 
The chef blows his whistle four times. 

[3?] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

It is the signal for assembly. He gives 
us a few instructions. We run to our 
cars. One whistle — we crank up. Two 
whistles — the leading ambulance pain- 
fully and noisily tears itself from its bed 
of mud. The others follow in regular 
succession, until the last car melts into 
the grey, cold mist. When shall we see 
Erize again.^ 



[38] 



II 

IN ACTION 



V] 



ILLE-SUR-COUZANCES is also at 
this time the headquarters of Section 
XXIX, which has just lost two men, 
and Section lxix, which is a gear-shift 
section, — we are quite proudly Fords. 
Section xix, French, whom we are 
relieving, examines us critically, but 
makes no audible comments. To the 
six of us chosen for the first "roll" there 
is but one impatient thought. We hear 
"Napoleon" — a French private attached 
to our section for ravitaillement because 
he could do nothing else — telling the cook 
and several unwiUing assistants how to 
dispose of the field range. In the French 
manner, instead of ignoring him, the 
stove is discarded, and a Latin argument 
follows much to the amusement if not 
to the edification of the onlookers. This 

C4i] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

does not concern us, and as soon as we 
get the order to roll we are blithely off. 

It is only a few minutes' run to Bro- 
court, where the triage, or front hospital, 
is located. This is like a giant hangar in 
shape, but, instead of the mottled green, 
blue, and grey camouflage of the latter, 
it is brilHantly white with a red cross 
fifty feet square surmounting it. Despite 
this fact, it is bombed and shelled regu- 
larly by the "merciful" Hun. We pass 
through the shattered town, its church 
tower still standing, by a miracle, and 
pointing its scarred and violated finger 
to the heavens with the silent appeal — 
"Avenge!" 

The sous-chef, who is sitting beside me, 
tells me to put on my helmet and to sUng 
my mask over my shoulder. From here 
on men "go west" suddenly, and in 
their boots. We pass over a short rise 
in sight of the German saucisses, and down 
a steep and long hill into Recicourt. Of 



IN ACTION 

that hill there is much to remember — 
but today it is just steep, and green, and 
has many trees by the roadside loaded 
down with much unripe fruit. Past the 
sentry, over the bridge which the Boche 
hit yesterday with an eight-inch shell 
— which failed to explode and boimced 
into the muddy river — and we are at 
the relay station. It is a barn with half 
the roof and a goodly portion of the 
walls missing. We use this to screen the 
cars from the eyes of raiding enemy 
aeroplanes, of which there are many. 

Two of us are at once assigned to run 
to the poste de secours, P 2, where just 
now we are to keep two cars, the other 
four remaining at the relay station. Again 
luck is with me, and I am in the first 
car to roll. Om* run is entirely through 
the woods, in the Hesse Forest, and as 
the enemy will not be able to see us we 
rejoice — but we soon learn not to re- 
joice prematurely. There is hardly a 

[43] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

man in sight as we struggle along through 
the mud, but beside the road everywhere, 
often spilling into it, lie piles of shells, 
75's, i55's, and torpilles by the thousand, 
apparently arranged haphazardly. The 
iorpille is a winged and particularly 
deadly shell, first cousin to the German 
minniewerfer, and differing essentially only 
in range. The marechal des logis informs 
us encouragingly that the one lying in 
the middle of the road which we just ran 
over was a Boche which did not explode 
when it landed, and has not — yet. 

Everything is wrapped in the silence 
of the grave except for an occasional 
crash as some battery sends its message 
into Germany. We arrive at P 2, which 
is distinguished from the rest of the 
world by a foot square of white cotton 
and the universal red cross. There is 
room inside the gate — a log dyke against 
the mud — to park the cars: "Room 
sideways or deep," as one member of the 

CM] 



IN ACTION 

section described it as he watched his 
boots sink steadily into the mud. 

The sous-chef calls us around him and 
gives us our detailed instructions, for he 
is going back by the first car. Suddenly, 
as we are Hstening to him attentively, 
there is a piercing zz-chung, and a 25o 
lands within a hundred yards with a 
dull crash and a geyser of trees, dirt, 
and black smoke. We look at him in- 
quiringly and he points to the abrL 
We nod and adjourn to it. A few more 
shells follow, then all is peaceful again, 
while the French batteries around us 
hammer away at the Germans in their 
turn. We take lunch on a rustic table 
imder the trees and thoroughly enjoy 
having our tin plates rattled by the 
concussion of the guns, while a French- 
man explains to us the difference in 
sound between an arrivee and a depart. 

Such is the initiation. Then while we, 
as yet mere amateurs, eat peacefully, 

[45] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

relishiag the novelty of the situation, and 
buoyed up by our first excitement, a 
short procession passes. It is a group of 
men carrying stretchers on which are 
what were men a few minutes before, 
who, standing within talking distance of 
us, were blown out of existence by the 
shells which whistled over our heads 
and, bursting, scattered eclats and dirt 
on the steel roof that sheltered us. It is 
a side of the front which has not touched 
us deeply before, a side which in the first 
few days of the ordeal by fire impresses 
itself more and more on the novice, until 
he learns to temper the reahzation with 
philosophy and the so-caUed humor of 
the front. Then is the veteran in embryo. 

X HE ambulance sections are divided 
into two classes — gear-shift and Ford. 
The gear-shift sections are composed of 
Fiats, BerHets, or some other French car. 
They carry five couches or eight assis, 
[46] 



IN ACTION 

and have two men to a car. The French 
Army ambulances are all gear-shift, and 
the gear-shift sections included in the 
American Field Service all originally be- 
longed to the French Government. Be- 
fore the American Government took over 
the Ambulance Corps, the American Field 
Service, in addition to sending out Ford 
sections as quickly as they were sub- 
scribed in America, had been gradually 
absorbing the French Ambulance System, 
reHeving with its own men the French 
drivers who could then serve in the 
trenches, and including those sections 
among its own. 

The Ford sections carried three couches 
or four assis, and had one driver, although 
many sections had extra men to help out. 
A Ford section then, when complete, con- 
sisted of twenty ambulances, one Ford 
camionnette or truck, which went for food 
and carried spare parts and often bag- 
gage, one French camionnette, a one-ton 

[47] 



THE ^\:HITE road OF MYSTERY 

truck, which carried tools, French me- 
chanics, and other spare parts, one large 
White truck with kitchen trailer, one 
Ford toiu-ing-car for the chef, and a more 
or less high-powered touring car for the 
lieutenant. The personnel was one 
French Keutenant, who was the connect- 
ing link between the organization and 
the government, and was responsible to 
the latter for the actions of the section; 
one chef, who was an American chosen 
by the organization from the sous-chefs 
of one of the sections in the field; one or 
two sous-chefs, chosen by the chef from 
the members of his or some other sec- 
tion; twenty drivers, often an odd num- 
ber of assistant drivers, an American paid 
mechanic, and an odd number of French 
mechanics, cooks, and clerks. 

The Heutenant received the orders and 

was responsible to the army for their 

execution. The Heutenant gave the chef 

his orders, and the chef was responsible 

[48] 



IN ACTION 

to him for their execution by the section. 
The sous-chefs were the chefs assistants. 

The routine when at work is for a 
certain number of cars to be on duty at 
one time, the number depending on the 
work. The section is divided into shifts 
of the number of cars required. When on 
duty a man must always have his car 
and himself ready to "roll," and when off 
duty, after putting his car in condition, 
must rest so as to be in shape for his next 
turn. When the work is heavy, the cars 
on duty are rolling all the time with very 
Httle opportunity for food or rest for the 
driver; consequently, for a man not to 
get himself and his car ready in this 
period of rest means that the service is 
weakened; and that, if other cars go en 
panne unavoidably, it is possibly crip- 
pled — and Hves may be lost. When the 
work is hght, men are usually twenty- 
four hours on and forty-eight off; when 
moderate, twenty-four on and twenty- 

[49] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

four off; when stiff, forty-eight on and 
twenty-four off, and during an attack 
abnost steadily on. The longest stretch 
that my section kept its men continu- 
ously at work was seven days and nights 
in the Verdun sector during an attack, 
and we were compelled to cease then 
only because too few of our cars were 
left able to roll to carry the wounded. 

From headquarters the day's shift is 
sent to the relay station, and from there 
cars go as needed to the postes de secours. 
The postes are as near the trenches as it 
is possible for the cars to go, and some 
can be visited only at night. The 
wounded are brought to these by the 
brancardiers through the hoyaux, or com- 
munication trenches, and usually have 
their first attention here. After jfirst 
aid has been administered, and when there 
are enough for a load, or there is a serious 
case, the car goes to the triage, stopping 
at the relay station, from which a car 
[5o] 



IN ACTION 

is sent to the poste to replace the first, 
which returns to the relay station directly 
from the hospital. 

The hospitals also are divided into two 
main classes, the triages, or front hospitals 
in the zone of fixe, and the H.O.E's, 
hospitals of evacuation, anywhere back 
of the fines. The hospital of evacuation 
is the third of the four stages through 
which a wounded man passes. The first 
is the front line dressing station, the abri; 
the second, if the wound is at all serious, 
is the triage; the third, if serious enough, 
is the hospital of evacuation; and the 
fourth, if the soldier has been confined 
to the hospital for ten or more days, is 
the ten-day permission to Paris, Nice, or 
some other place of his choice. Then 
these classes, in some cases, are subdi- 
vided into separate hospitals for couches, 
assis, and malades. 

These subdivisions sometimes make 
compfications, as in the case of one 

[5i] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

driver who was given what appeared to 
be a serious case to take to the couche 
hospital. While on the way, however, 
the serious case revived sufficiently to 
find his canteen. After a few swallows 
he felt a pleasant warmth within, for 
French canteens are not filled with water, 
and sat up better to observe his sur- 
roundings and to make imcomplimentary 
remarks to the driver. Arrived at the 
hospital, the hrancardiers lifted the 010"- 
tain at the rear of the car, and seeing 
the patient sitting up and smoking a 
cigarette, apparently in good health, they 
refused to take him, and sent the car on 
to the assis hospital. Overcome by his 
imdue exertion, the wounded man lay 
down again, and by the time the ambu- 
lance had reached the other hospital was 
peacefully dozing on the floor. The 
hrancardiers shook their heads, and sent 
the car back to the couche hospital. 
Somewhat annoyed by this time, the 

[52] 



IN ACTION 

ambulancier did not drive with the same 
care, and the jolts aroused the incensed 
poilu, who sat up and began to ask per- 
sonal questions. The driver, not wishing 
to continue his trips between the two 
hospitals for the duration of the war, 
stopped the car outside the couche hos- 
pital, and, seeing his patient sitting up, 
put him definitely to sleep with a tire 
tool, and sent him in by the uncomplaining 
hrancardiers. 



w. 



E spend a good part of our time in 
the ahri. Just now the Boche appears 
to have taken a particular dislike to this 
part of the sector, for he is strafing it 
most unmercifully. We do not doubt at 
all that it is because we are here. The 
fact that there are six thousand French 
guns massed in the woods, so near to- 
gether that you cannot walk a dozen feet 
without tripping over one, may, of course, 
have something to do with the enemy's 

[53] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

vindictiveness, but that does not occur 
to us. 

After taking an hour or two of inter- 
rupted sleep in the ahri, we step out in 
the early morning to get a breath of 
fresh air and to untangle our cramped 
muscles. A shell or two whines in un- 
comfortably near, and we are convinced 
that the enemy knows our every move 
by instinct. When we sit in the abri 
during the day, and there is never a 
second that we do not hear the whine 
of at least one shell overhead, and 
the intervals between shells striking near 
enough to shake the abri and rattle eclats 
on its steel roof grow less, we are con- 
vinced the Boche is searching for our 
dugout. When I am making a run to P 2, 
and, rounding Dead Horse Corner, start 
on the last stretch, and a shell knocks 
a tree across the road a hundred feet 
ahead, blocking us completely, and two 
more shells drop on the road by the tree, 
[54] 



IN ACTION 

two more strike ten yards on our right, 
and another lands within fifteen feet on 
our left, there is no doubt in my mind 
that the enemy is after me. 

In reaHty, of course, the enemy has no 
idea where the abris are located, and just 
now is simply taking a few chance shots 
at a likely corner — but every man knows 
that every shell he hears is meant for 
him personally, — all of which goes to 
prove how egotistical we really are. 



As 



one man remarked, "Our life out 
here is just one d — brancardier after an- 
other." The brancardier s, or stretcher- 
bearers, include the musicians — for the 
band does not play at the front, — the 
exchanged prisoners who are pledged to 
do no combatant work, and others who 
volunteer for or are assigned to this work. 
These men are in the front line trenches, 
where they bandage wounded men as they 
are hit, and carry them to the front abri, 

[55] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

where the major, army doctor, gives them 
more careful attention. At the front 
abri are other brancardiers, who then 
take charge of these men and load them 
into om* cars. We arrive at the hospital, 
and brancardiers there unload the ambu- 
lances and carry in the wounded. Inside 
the hospital other brancardiers nurse the 
wounded, as no women niu-ses are allowed 
in the triage hospitals. 

A caUous, hardened, dulled class of 
men, absolutely lacking in sentiment, 
yet doing a noble and heroic work. Who 
could do their work without becoming 
caUous — or insane? We curse them 
often when they put a man in the car 
upside down or drop him, but we forget 
that when the infantry goes en repos, the 
brancandiers stay at their posts, going 
out into No Man's Land every hour to 
bring in a countryman or an enemy. 
When, standing by the car at P 3, I see 
two brancardiers carrying a man up from 
[56] 



IN ACTION 

the abri and, after noticing that both his 
arms are broken, one in two places, that 
both legs are broken, that a bloody bandage 
covers his chest, and that the white band 
around his head is staining red, I see them 
drop him when a shell screams over- 
head, I curse them. But I forget that 
for the past two nights, with their abri 
filled with chlorine gas, these same men 
have toiled faithfully in suffocating gas- 
masks, bringing in the wounded, caring 
for them, and loading them on our cars. 
I forget that these men have probably 
not had an hour's consecutive sleep for 
weeks and that it may be weeks before 
they have again; that it is months since 
they last saw a dry foot of ground, or 
felt that for a moment they were free of 
the ever present expectation of sudden 
death. It is something to remember, 
and it is to wonder rather how they do 
these things at all than why they seem 
at times a httle careless or a bit tired. 

[59] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

Would the brancardier tell you this? 
When he sees you he asks after your 
comrades. He takes you ui and gives 
you a cigarette and some Pinard ia a 
battered cup, and tries to find you a 
place to rest, all the time telling you 
cheerful stories and amusing incidents. 

The Staff is the brains of the army; 
Aviation, the eyes; the Artillery, the voice; 
the Infantry and Cavalry, the arms; the 
Engineers, the hands; the Transporta- 
tion, the legs; the People behiud it, the 
body; but the Brancardier is the soul. 

X HERE are soimds outside of a klaxon 
being worked vigorously. However, we 
have several dozing Frenchmen inside 
the ahri who are making similar noises, 
so nothing dawns upon our sleepy senses 
for some minutes while the owner of the 
klaxon searches for the abri. This is 
dangerous business, because on all sides 
are barbed wire, shell-holes, and other 

[60] 



IN ACTION 

abris. Also, as this one is located in the 
corner of a graveyard, there is danger 
that the searcher will wander on and 
uproot a dozen or more wooden crosses 
in the search. At last he discovers the 
right one by faUing down the pit we 
called stairs before the rain set in. A 
violent monologue arouses us frora our 
dozing comfortlessness, and we learn that 
a car is wanted at P 2. I am next on call, 
so I slowly and painfully unwind myself 
from a support and two pairs of legs, and, 
with the man who rides with me, make 
my way into the outer darkness. 

We get the car and start ofiP down the 
road with no Hghts anywhere, and pray 
that everything coming the other way 
keeps to its side of the road and goes 
slowly. There is always something com- 
ing the other way — and your way, 
a steady succession of camions in the 
centre of the road, and of artillery trains 
on the side. The camions are mostly 

C61] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

very heavy and very powerful, and have 
no compunction at all about what they 
rim into, as they know that it cannot 
harm them. The ammunition trains con- 
sist of batteries of yB's, Httle framework 
teams with torpilles fitting in small com- 
partments Kke eggs, and other such 
vehicles in tow of a number of mules, 
with the driver invariably asleep. The 
traffic, however, in spite of the pitch 
darkness, would be endurable if it were 
not for the mud which often comes up 
to the hubs. It is a slimy mud, and 
if spread thinly is extremely slippery. 
On the roads it is rarely spread thinly, 
and when one gets out to push he often 
sinks in up to the knee. Then of course 
there is always the whine of arrivees and 
departs passing overhead, and the occa- 
sional crump of a German 77 or i5o 
landing near at hand. 

The French and the German gunners 
play a Httle game every night with supply 

[62] 



IN ACTION 

trains and shells. The shells are trumps. 
The object is to see who can play the 
more "cards" without being trumped. 
An artillery train counts one, a camionnette 
two, a camion five — because it blocks the 
road for some time when hit, and gives 
the enemy time to trump more cards — 
two ambulances give a win, and if a 
gun is hit the enemy is disquaHfied. The 
game is very interesting — for the artillery. 
This modernized blindman's buif is 
carried on at its best in the early hours 
of the morning before the game becomes 
too free-for-all to score carefully, and 
most of the cars are returned to the 
"pack" — out of the zone of fire — to 
wait for the next evening's fun. At this 
time the roads are crowded, and the 
game is at its height. As the fun increases 
for the judges, however, it decreases for 
the players, — that is to say the "cards." 
The prospect of being trumped is not a 
pleasant anticipation, although it keeps 

[63] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

up the interest and prevents ennui. 
After an hoiu' or so of sport the going 
becomes very bad, as there are always 
many horses killed, and when the fight- 
ing is at all severe there is no time to 
bury them. Then, too, the narrow gauge 
railway crossing the road every few rods 
is often hit, and left, like a steel oc- 
topus, with its twisted tentacles stretch- 
ing out in all directions. These add to 
the sport hugely, and our chief consola- 
tion is to imagine the Boche over on his 
side having fully as bad if not a worse 
time than we. 

"This or the next.^" inquires my com- 
panion in reference to a cross-road which 
appears on our right. 

Having no idea I answer, "This one," 
and we turn. An unaccountable number 
of joimces greets us as we continue. 

"They must have strafed this road a 
good bit since our last roll," my friend 
comments. 
[64] 



IN ACTION 

The going is worse, and we stop to get 
our bearings. We shout and presently 
a form rises from the darkness. At any 
hour of the day or night it is possible to 
rouse by one or more shouts any number 
of men anywhere. You can see no one, 
as the world, for obvious reasons, Kves 
underground in the rabbit burrows of 
abris, but when needed comes forth in 
force. This is very convenient, as often 
when driving at night one finds his car 
stuck in the middle of a new and large 
shell-hole, and help is necessary. We 
ask our location. 

''Ah, ouU M'sieu, P-iroisr 

We have come by error to the artillery 
posie and must retrace our way. We 
exchange cigarettes with the friendly 
brancardier and set off again. At last we 
get back on the right road, and after 
making another turn are nearing the 
poste. In the last gleams from a star- 
shell ahead we see something grey by 

[65] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

the side of the road. As we are in the 
woods I take a quick look with my flash. 
It is one of our ambulances. My friend 
and I look at each other, and are mutually 
glad that it is too dark to see each 
other's face. A careful survey of the 
surroundings yields nothing, and we press 
on — in silence. We jolt into the poste 
with racing motor and wheels clogged 
with mud, and go down into the very 
welcome abri. Our friends there know 
nothing about the ambulance, so we 
hope for the best. 

Friendships at the front are for the 
most part sincere — but sometimes short. 

XT is about ten o'clock in the evening. 
We have been given a load at P 2 and 
are returning to the hospital. We turn 
from the battered Bois d'Avocourt into 
the Bois de Recicourt, and passing through 
the Bois de Pommiers roll into the valley. 
We cross through the town, and when 
[66] 



IN ACTION 

the sentry lifts the gate pull slowly up 
the hill towards Brocourt. Punctually 
at five-thirty this evening twelve shells 
whistled over Recicourt and struck the 
hill, but fortunately not the road. 

This hill makes a perfect target for 
the Boche, for if he falls short he hits 
the town, if he overshoots he will prob- 
ably hit the hospital, and if he hits what 
he aims at he may get the road. Conse- 
quently there are intermittent bombard- 
ments at all hours of the day and night 
— preferably at night as there is more 
trafiic on the roads. There is one time 
that the Boche never fails to greet us. 
That is five-thirty. Every day while I 
was there, as the hour struck, or would 
have struck had the clock been left to 
strike it, twelve shells whistled over 
Recicourt and knocked fruit from the 
orchard on the hill. If the Boche were 
sentimental, we would say it was the 
early twihght that made him do this, 

[67] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

but as we remember Belgium we call it 
habit. There are several big rotis set up 
by the roadside like kilo-stones to remind 
us that to roll at five-thirty is verboten. 

For some unexplained and mysterious 
reason many of the German shells do 
not explode. Whether this is from faulty 
workmanship or defective fuses or ma- 
terials we do not know, but it causes 
the poilus much amusement. There will 
be the whine of an arrivee and a dull thud 
as it strikes the ground, but no explosion. 
Every Frenchman present immediately 
roars with laughter and shouts, "Roti! 
Boiir 

We crawl up the hill, the road luckily 
having escaped injury during the after- 
noon, and at length reach the hospital. 
Then, much hghtened, we start back. 
Coasting slowly down the hill we have a 
perfect opportunity to observe the horizon. 

The sky tonight is softly radiant, a 
velvety blaqk with myriads of brilHant 
[68] 



IN ACTION 

stars in the upper heavens. Opposite us 
is another hill, crowned with trees which 
break gently into the skyhne. Above 
these the sky flashes and sparkles in 
iridescent glory. The thundering bat- 
teries hght up everything with brilliant 
flashes, and the star-shells springing up 
over No Man's Land hang for an instant 
high in the air with dazzHng briUiancy, 
and then fading, drift slowly earthward. 
The artillery signals (Verrey Lights, 
rockets carrying on their sticks one, two, 
three, and foiu* hghts) dart up everywnere. 
A raider piurs overhead, and golden bursts 
of shrapnel crack in the sky. All merge 
together, first one, then another stand- 
ing forth to catch the eye for a brief 
second, the kaleidoscopic brilliancy Hft- 
ing one up out of the depths of the mire 
to forget for a moment why these Hghts 
flare — treacherous will o' the wisps 
leading men on to death — and one sees 
only the wonderful beauty of the scene: 

C69] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

a picture impressed on the memory which 
makes all seem worth while. One sight 
of these causes the discomforts and dan- 
gers of the day's work to fade, and they 
become a symbol — a pillar of fire leading 
on to the victory that is coming when 
Right shall have conquered Might, and 
the tortured world can again breathe 
freely. 



I 



T is night, and the chill mist has settled 
close to the ground. It is cold and damp, 
but the front is always cold and damp so 
no one comments on it. We are several 
feet underground and that augments the 
chill somewhat, but as here one fives under- 
ground he does not think of that. There 
is a fittle breeze outside, for the burlap 
that hangs at the foot of the stairs lead- 
ing to the outer world quivers, and the 
lone candle flickers uncertainly, casting 
weird shadows from the black steel roof 
on the sleeping forms. The sides of the 

C70] 



IN ACTION 

abri are lined with bunks, wooden frames 
covered with wire netting, upon which He 
sprawled brancardiers, poilus, and in one 
an American has managed to locate him- 
self quite comfortably. The abri is short, 
and the few bmiks are at a premium. 

Two of our men are asleep, — one on 
the floor, another. in a bunk. The rest 
of us wrap our coats around us and 
smoke pensively. We think of home, and 
wonder what om* friends there are doing 
just now. It is August and shghtly after 
midnight. The time difference makes it 
a few minutes past six in the States. At 
the seashore they are coming in from 
canoeing and swimming, sitting around 
before dinner, discussing the plans for the 
evening and the happenings of the day. 
At the mountains they are finishing rounds 
of golf or sets of tennis, and the pink and 
gold of the sunset is crowning the peaks 
with a fading burst of glory. Soon the 
hghts of the hotel will shine brightly 

C71] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

forth into the gathering gloom, and the 
dance music will strike up. 

Each tells the others just what he 
would be doing at the moment were he 
in the States, and comments. It is all 
done in an absolutely detached manner, 
just as one describes incidents and chap- 
ters in books. We think we would Uke 
to be home now, but we know that we 
would rather not. We are perfectly 
contented to be doing what we are 
doing, and do not envy those at home. 
Nor do we begrudge any of them the 
pleasant times they may be having. In 
fact, if we thought they were giving them 
up we would be miserable. One cannot 
think about this war for long at a time, 
and when one meditates it is to specu- 
late on what is happening at home. One 
gloats over imaginary dances, theatres, and 
all varieties of good times. I have often 
enjoyed monologue discussions with my 
friends, or imagined myself doing any 

C72] 



IN ACTION 

one of the many things I might have 
been doing. It is the lonesome man's 
chief standby to Hve by proxy. 

Outside there is continually the dull 
thunder of the guns. They are evidently 
firing tir de barrage, for there is a certain 
regularity in the wave of sound that 
rumbles in on us. Perhaps the barrage 
is faUing on the roads behind the enemy 
fines, cutting off and destroying his supply 
trains. Perhaps it is trying to sweep 
some of his batteries out of existence, or 
perhaps it is faUing on his trenches, 
taking its toU of nerve and fife. Again 
we can only conjecture. There is the 
continual whine of his shells rushing 
overhead, and the crump-crump of their 
breaking in the near distance. Then the 
enemy starts a fittle sweeping of his own, 
and the arrivees begin to fall in an arc 
which draws steadily nearer, until a 
thunder clap just outside and the rattling 
of eclats, dirt, and tree fragments on the 

[73] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

roof, make you rejoice in your cover, and 
you chuckle as a brancardier sleepily 
remarks, ''Entrez!'' You wonder curi- 
ously, and listen expectantly to see if 
the next will fall on you; then you doze 
again or say something to the man beside 
you. 

Inside there is an equal variety of 
sounds. There are poilus snoring in 
seven different octaves, there is the splut- 
ter of the candle overhead, and from 
one corner an occasional moan from some 
wounded man, growing more frequent 
as the night wears on. We may not 
take him in imtil we have enough for a 
load. Soon there is the sound of feet 
on the stairs, and a brancardier stumbles 
in leading a man raving wildly, with his 
head swathed in fresh bandages rapidly 
staining with the oozing blood. Some 
one moves, and he is seated and given 
a cup of Pinard and a cigarette, which 
he accepts gratefully. We get ready to 
[74] 



IN ACTION 

go out to the ambulance, but the doctor 
shakes his head — we have not a load 
yet. Some of the regulations perplex us; 
but it is not our business, so we hght up 
our pipes again and snuggle down into 
our fm* coats, dozing and listening to 
the whine of the shells outside and the 
moans inside. Then, after a while, an- 
other blesse is brought to the door and 
the doctor nods. Two of us jump up, 
snatch our musettes, run to the car, and 
assist the hrancardiers in shoving in the 
third man, who is unconscious. Then we 
crank up, and after some minutes of 
manoeuvring in the deep mud reach the 
road and start for the hospital. 

JL HE black of the night, split by the 
star-shells and the batteries, has given 
place to the grey of the dawn. AU is 
still and quiet, with the rare crash of a 
battery or an arrivee alone breaking the 
silence. There is no sign of the sun, and 

[75] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

it will be some hours before it breaks 
through the early mist to smile upon us 
for a few brief moments before the never- 
ending rain envelops us again, — for it 
is the mauvais temps. 

After lying for two hours in one of the 
bunks in the ahri, and vainly endeavoring 
to keep warm with two blesse blankets, 
I arise stiffly and crawl out into the fresh 
air. The blesse blankets are single blankets 
quartered and, as they are assigned for 
use in the ambulances and abris for the 
wounded, often bring little visitors. 

The air is clear and damp, and remark- 
ably invigorating. A few deep breaths 
start the blood slowly moving through 
my veins, and I walk around in the 
mud, stretching my cramped hmbs. 
There are the usual new shell-holes 
scattered about to make us first rejoice 
in oiu" shelter and then look doubtfully 
at the all-too-thin layer of dirt on the 
roof between us and a direct hit. The 

C76] 




AN ABRI 



IN ACTION 

Germans, when they take up a position, 
seem to think of it as permanent, dig their 
abris often as deep as a hundred feet 
underground, and are absolutely safe in 
them except when a raiding party tosses 
a grenade down the stairs. Their officers' 
quarters are particularly spacious, lined 
with cement, with the walls often papered, 
holding brass beds and other quite civi- 
Kzed comforts. A piano was found in 
one. It had jjeen put in before the cement 
was laid, and they were unable to remove 
it when they retreated — even if they 
had had the time. The French, whether 
from laziness or because they expect 
soon again to be moving forward, waste 
Httle time on the dug-outs. The standard 
is a pit Hned with sandbags, and covered 
by a conventional form of corrugated 
steel roof, with more sandbags and a little 
dirt on top of this. These protect from 
the eclats, or shell fragments, but form a 
death trap for all inside if there is a direct 

C79] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

hit. If the side of a hill or a hollow is 
available it affords more protection. The 
one direct hit on our abri at P 2 was 
luckily a "dud," and caused no damage. 

I walk over to the pile of discarded 
equipment to see if anything interestiog 
has been added dm'ing the night. This 
and the hospital are the two favorite 
places for souvenir hunters. At all the 
postes and in the hospitals the rifles, 
bayonets, packs, belts, cartridges, knives, 
grenades, revolvers, shoes, and other 
equipment of the wounded and dead are 
put in a large pile, and the first to recover 
get the pick — after our selection. At 
the postes these things are piled in the 
open, with no protection from the ele- 
ments, and many are slowly disintegrat- 
ing. This morning, of the new things 
there is of interest only one of the large 
wire-chppers, used by the pionniers and 
scouts for passing through the enemy 
wire. But my friend has seen them first, 

[80] 



IN ACTION 

SO I waive all claims, and he tucks them 
carefully away in one of the several side- 
boxes with which the cars are equipped. 
The trees are twice decimated, but 
the buds have stayed, and now they 
are waking and, overflowing with high 
spirits, sing their message of good cheer. 
They answer each other from different 
parts of the wood, and by closing one's 
eyes one seems to be in the country at 
home. Never has the song of birds 
seemed more beautiful or more welcome, 
and, gladdened, we Hsten while we may, 
before the slowly swelhng thunder of the 
guns, beginning their early morning bom- 
bardment, drowns out all other sound. 
We go down again into the ahri and 
pray for a load soon to take us down 
to the hospital and breakfast at head- 
quarters. 



Wi 



E have been ordered en repos, and 
after turning in our extra gas masks — 

C8i] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

we carry ten in the car for the wounded 
in addition to the two on our person — 
our blesse blankets, and stretchers, we 
start in to load the cars with our friends, 
and om* own baggage. As for some time 
our baggage has been lying en masse in 
the "drawing-room" of Tucker Inn, as 
some humorous conducteur styled the 
roofless pen in Recicourt, where our be- 
longings were left while we were rolling, 
or in the surrounding abris, one could 
not be at all certain that he was putting 
the right things in the right duffles, and 
it was not surprising if a stray jar or two 
of confiture most unaccountably found its 
way into one's own duffle. 

The section in formation, we roll off 
with the sun shining brightly on grimy 
cars and drivers, down the roads, passing 
ruin after ruin, with a burst of speed 
past a corner in view of the German 
trenches, and we again begin to see 
famihar groimd. The green hill back of 

[82] 



IN ACTION 

Erize, with shadows of the woods and the 
scars of the old trenches, appears in the 
distance, and my friend looks at me and 
chuckles. 

Back in the same Kttle town, parked in 
the same ruins with the same quietness, 
peace, and relaxation from the tenseness 
of the past days, which is so welcome this 
time, my friend and I walk into a Httle 
estaminet, pledge each other in glasses 
of French beer, and taking off our hel- 
mets for ahnost the first time in what 
seems an age, survey them and each 
other in placid contentment. 



[83] 



Ill 

EN REPOS 






A 



BATCH of mail was given out the 
morning after our return. When we 
moved, our address seemed to have been 
lost, for only a few letters, of no interest 
to any one, managed to find us. We have 
been too busy to miss them, and when 
they arrived in a bunch there were no 
complaints. 

It is a wonderful thrill to get a letter 
from home, to read what those who mean 
all to one are doing, and to feel their 
personalities throbbing "between the 
hues." We bridge for a brief moment 
the chasm of three thousand miles, and 
in revery gaze upon those persons, those 
places, and those things we have known. 
Our thoughts here are always in the 
past. We cannot think of the present, 
and we dare not think of the futiue, but 
there is always the past to Kve in, — the 
past of events and memories. 

C87] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

We settle down to the same dull 
monotony as before. For a few days 
this is bliss, but it soon becomes tiring 
again. All work here is contrast. When 
we are at work, we work intensively, 
taking less rest than seems physically 
possible, and when en repos we are plunged 
into the dullest monotony imaginable, 
with nothing to amuse or occupy us. 
This is true of every branch of active 
service. 

The few air raids are rather an anti- 
climax after the days that have just 
passed, especially as nothing falls near 
enough to cause us any annoyance. At 
Bar-le-Duc the Boche playfully drops a 
dozen bombs into the German prison 
camp, much to every one's amusement; 
a mile from us he destroys a camp of 
Bulgarian prisoners, and we wonder at 
his hard-headedness and laugh. But the 
next night we hear bombs crashing in the 
distance, and in the morning learn from 
[88] 



EN REPOS 

some men in another section passing 
through that it was Vadlaincom-t, where 
the Hmis flew so near the ground that 
soldiers in the streets shot at them with 
rifles. At that height the aeroplanes 
could not mistake their targets, and they 
retired only when the hospital was a 
mass of flaming ruins. There are no 
snules at this. Another night the purring 
motors reveal outlined high against 
the stars a fleet of Zeppelins, bound we 
know not where, but, we do know, on a 
mission of death to the innocent. 

X HE enemy aeroplane comes over us 
often. We have wondered why, but we 
now realize that whQe the AUies can get 
control of the air when they want it, to 
keep continual control woifld be too 
expensive in both men and machines. 
The anti-aircraft gun theoreticaUy solves 
the problem. When an enemy machine 
appears, a battery of contre-avions is 

[89] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

notified and essays the destruction of the 
adventurer. 

It is pretty sport. A little white 
machine, sometimes catching the glint 
of the sun, dashes towards us at a great 
height. It is sighted, and then the high- 
pitched boom-booms of the contre-avions 
start in, and the shrapnel breaks at 
varying distances around the machine 
like powder-puffs, which float along for 
some minutes. After a httle of this 
harmless sport the Boche gets out of 
range, the guns cease, and the machine, 
having in the meanwhile disposed of 
some bombs or taken some photographs, 
dashes off, to be followed shortly by one 
or two Frenchmen. 

The practical value of the anti-aircraft 
guns is to keep the machines so high in 
the air that they can accompHsh Httle, as 

the gims rarely score. At M , where 

every day they have been shooting two 
or three hundred rounds at the machines 

[go] 



EN REPOS 

which fly over the city, they are quite 
proud of their record, for once in one 
day they shot down three machines — 
two of their own and one German. 
They have been resting on their laurels 
ever since. It was a few examples hke 
this which taught the French airmen to 
keep out of the sky while the contre-avions 
were busy. 



N- 



APOLEON " was so christened by us 
because, despite his sparrow-like form and 
manner, he considers himself the moving 
spirit of the army in general and of our 
section in particular. Because he knows 
nothing about automobiles, he styles him- 
self an expert, — the mere fact that he 
is assigned as clerk to an ambulance 
section proves his claim. The one time 
he had the indiscretion to touch a car, 
he drove the Heutenant's around the 
compound with the emergency brake 
set — after telHng the sous-chef that he 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

had driven cars for twenty years! One 
of the ambulances goes for ravitaillement 
every day, carrying "Napoleon," who 
disappears into mysterious buildings and 
returns with still more mysterious edibles, 
presumably for our delectation. 

On one trip the carburetor gave trouble 
and we stopped and cleaned it. While 
we were working we noticed "Napoleon" 
industriously tiuning the hghts on and 
off, pumping the button on the dash. 
We said nothing, and when we had fin- 
ished and started the car again he tapped 
his chest proudly, cocked his head, and 
said, ''Moi.r' 

In circumnavigating a large team in 
the centre of the road later that day I 
rubbed "Napoleon" off against a horse, 
and after that he snubbed me on every 
occasion. 



Bi 



►EING at the cross-roads, all manner 
of men and things come through Erize. 

[92] 



EN REPOS 

The never-ending stream of camions pass- 
ing each other as they go, layers deep 
with dust and grime, winds on steadily. 
There is great rivalry between the camion 
pelotons, and each has adopted an in- 
signia painted on the sides of the cars 
to distinguish it from the others. As 
there are several hundred pelotons the 
designs are many, interesting, and reveal 
much of the inner nature of the poilu. 
Every species of beast and fowl is de- 
picted, — greyhound, stork, swallow, and 
other types, — as a monkey riding on a 
shell, a demon with trident pursuing a 
German, and then perhaps a child's 
face, copied no doubt from the locket of 
one of the men. 

Soldiers go up cheering wildly, sing- 
ing and shouting. They return silent, 
tired, covered with mud, and reduced in 
numbers. German rifles, bayonets, caps, 
buttons, cartridges, and other odds and 
ends are then offered for sale. In August 

[93] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

a poilu offered me a German rifle. I was 
examining it, and admiring the design, 
when I noticed the maker's name, — the 
latest type German rifle had been made 
in New Jersey, U.S.A. 

In addition to these things, the poilus 
have for sale many articles they have 
made themselves. The favorite is the 
briquet, or pocket Hghter. This is made 
in all conceivable sizes and shapes, and 
operates by a flint and steel Hghting a 
gasoHne wick. This is why we use more 
gasoHne en repos than when roUing! 
The soldiers also take the soixante-quinze 
sheU-cases and carve and hammer them 
into vases. As many of the men were 
experts at work of this type ''avant la 
guerre/' and as much local talent has 
appeared since, some of the specimens 
are very fine indeed, and command high 
prices in the cities. 

It is these laughing, playing, seemingly 
care-free soldiers who are the spirit of the 
[94] 



EN REPOS 

war. Relieved from the tense struggle of 
life and death for a brief rest, their joyous 
nature blossoms forth in reaction from the 
serious affairs of their day's work. 

X HERE is nothing that so brings out 
the best in a man as to fight against 
terrific odds, to struggle in a losing fight 
with the knowledge that only by super- 
human effort can the odds be equaled or 
turned. To work for an ideal is a wonder- 
fully iQspiring thing, but when the battle 
necessitates the risking or the sacrificing 
of home, happiness, and fife it brings to 
the surface in those who persevere charac- 
teristics which lie dormant or concealed. 

An ideal must be worth while when 
millions of men gladly risk their all for 
its attainment, and those men who risk 
and sacrifice must have returned to them 
something for what they give. What- 
ever sort of creature he is on the siu-face, 
the fire test, if a man passes it and is not 

[97] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

shrivelled in its all-consuming flame, must 
develop in him certain latent and hitherto 
buried attributes which are fit to greet the 
fight of day. If he be lacking in worthy 
human instincts, the flame will destroy 
him, but if he passes through the test, he 
emerges a better man — how much better 
depends on the individual. At least, hav- 
ing once seen the ideal, he has something 
now for which to five and strive. 

X HE world, judging from what it saw 
on the surface, flatly declared that France 
could never stand up under the strain; 
but what has happened has proved how 
fittle of the real worth of a nation or of 
a man is ever visible on the surface. 
There must always come the test, the 
fire which burns off the mask, the false 
surface beneath which mankind ever 
hides, and brings forth what is concealed 
— good or bad. The bad is swept away 
and the good survives. 

[98] 



EN REPOS 

The French are a temperamental people, 
and consequently are most easily affected 
by circimastances. In former times the 
mass of the people were inchned to be 
demonstrative, insincere, somewhat selfish, 
and rather egotistical. These character- 
istics could never pass the tests, and now 
the true spirit of France, the Phoenix, is 
rising from the ashes of the past a freed 
and glorified being, radiant in the joy of 
accompHshment. From the torture she 
has endured, an understanding of the 
feehngs and desires of others must be 
born which will banish the taint of self- 
ishness forever. Those who do things 
are never egotistical — they have no time 
to talk, and France has been doing things 
these past years. Those who rub elbows 
with the elementals and sacrifice for each 
other and a cause can never be in- 
sincere again. And what harm is there 
in demonstration.^ The bad character- 
istics removed, this becomes merely an 

[99] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

effervescence, a bubbling over of a joy- 
ous, unrestrained nature — Ponce de 
Leon's true fountain of perpetual youth. 
The difference between the men who 
have served at the front and either seen 
or felt great suffering, and those who 
have not, is most marked. One evening 
I was in an abri where some new recruits 
were wranghng over unimportant things, 
and showing their selfish character in 
every speech and act, when a desper- 
ately wounded man was brought in. 
After serving for some time in the trenches 
he had been given a few days' leave to 
see his family. He went back happily, 
thinking of the wife and the Httle children 
he was soon to see again. Having left 
the third-Kne trenches, he was walking 
through the woods down the boyau 
which leads to the outer world, when a 
shell broke overhead. The brancardiers 
patched him up and brought him in 
with his head bound so that his eyes and 
[lOo] 



EN REPOS 

mouth alone were visible. The doctor 
handed him a cup of Pinard and a ciga- 
rette, neither of which would he touch 
imtil he had offered it to the rest of us. 
I picked up his helmet which he had put 
down for an instant, although his eye 
never left it. There was a hole in it 
through which I could have rolled a 
golf ball. 

To illustrate the reverse — I was stand- 
ing in a town a little ways back, waiting 
for a car to give me a Hft up to the hues, 
when a kitten rubbed against my leg. 
I picked it up and started to play with 
it. Instantly a peasant — not too old 
to serve — rushed out and snatched the 
kitten from my arms: 

"Ce n' est pas a vous!'' was his comment. 

X HE EngKsh can never be called a 
temperamental race, but even their stohd 
worth has needed much shaking up for 
the best in it to come to the surface. 

[lOl] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

The example they have set since their 
awakening is one which any nation may 
well emulate, and it will be a proud 
people indeed which can ever equal the 
record they have made in this war for 
courage and devotion, never surpassed 
in the history of the world. 

The poilu and the Tommy are of such 
opposite types that each completely mys- 
tifies the other. The Frenchman works 
himself up to a fanatical state of enthu- 
siasm, and in a wild burst of excitement 
dashes into the fray. The Englishman 
finishes his cigarette, exchanges a joke 
with his "bunkie," and coolly goes 
"over the top." Both are wonderful 
fighters, with the profoundest admira- 
tion for each other, but each with an 
absolute lack of imderstanding of the 
other, intensified by the difference in 
language. 



[102] 



EN REPOS 

X HE varying characteristics of troops 
from dijfferent parts of the world — the 
allied countries, dependencies, and col- 
onies — have led to their classification 
and assignment to the work best adapted 
to their temperament. The fighting 
troops are divided into two main classes 
called the "flying" and the "holding" 
divisions. There are some troops who 
are wonderful in a charge, but have no 
stamina or staying power to resist counter- 
attacks or the wear of steady fighting. 
There are others who lack the initiative 
and dash, but who can hold on and resist 
anything. Then there are others who, 
while they are possessed of both quaHties, 
are somewhat better suited for one class 
than the other. The Flying Divisions 
are used chiefly in the attacks, where a 
quick advance and desperate fighting 
must win the day. This completed, they 
go back en repos again, while the Holding 

Cio3] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

Diyisions take their place to consolidate 
the ground won, and to resist the enemy's 
attempts to regain it. The Flying 
Divisions have longer repos but more 
violent fighting while they are on the 
Hne, and the Holding Divisions have 
shorter repos but a less strenuous although 
longer stretch in the trenches. This has 
all been worked out from observation and 
experiment. 

For example, — in the early days of the 
war the Madagascans, French colored 
colonial troops, are given certain trenches 
to take. They take them with httle delay, 
and are told to consohdate and hold them. 
This is all very well until supper fails to 
arrive. The soldiers wait impatiently 
for a short while, and then, ignoring the 
commands of their officers, evacuate their 
trenches, which are immediately occu- 
pied by the Germans, and go back for 
their meal. Supper finished, with no 
hesitation they return £ind in a wild 

C io4 ] 



EN REPOS 

charge recapture their trenches and 
several more. 

Other French troops in the Flying 
Division are the Algerians, who have done 
wonderful fighting throughout the war, 
and have suffered heavily. It is the boast 
of the Foreign Legion, which is classed 
as Algerian, that since its organization 
it has never failed to reach its objective, 
and even in this war it has made good 
its boast. In one attack the Legion 
entered thirty-five thousand strong and 
returned victorious with a remnant of 
thirty-five hundred men. 

The Algerians have a sense of humor 
all their own. An amhulancier was carry- 
ing one of them down to the hospital. 
As he was only sfightly wounded he was 
sitting on the front seat with the driver, 
leaving more room for the couches inside. 
One of the couches was a German. Half 
way to the triage the Algerian made 
signs to the driver to stop. The driver 

[io5] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

looked inquiringly at the man who, with 
a broad grin, pulled out a long knife and 
pointed at the German. The driver 
naturally did not humor him, and the 
sulky Zouave refused to speak to him 
during the rest of the trip. 

Another Algerian came into the poste 
one day. He had a great joke that he 
wanted us all to hear. He said that he 
had been given three prisoners to bring 
in, and was leading them down a road 
in a pouring rain, when he noticed the 
ruin of a house with the roof missing. 
He told the prisoners to go in there — 
"where it would be drier," and when they 
comphed, stood on the outside and tossed 
grenades over the wall at them. 

The fact that the colonial troops of 
the AlHes, especially those of Great Brit- 
ain — the Canadians, Australians, and 
New Zealanders — fall practically with- 
out exception into the Flying Division 
because of the initiative, dash, and daring 
[io6] 



EN REPOS 

developed in them to such a degree, has 
given Germany, who has won more vic- 
tories with poisoned pen than with the 
sword, an opportunity to stir up hard 
feehng with her propaganda between the 
colonies and their mother country. 

This propaganda claims that England 
has sacrificed her Colonials to save her 
own troops. Nothing could be farther 
from the truth. While the Colonials are 
in the Flying Division and the larger 
part of the English in the Holding Divi- 
sion, because of their famous bulldog 
tenacity, the Enghsh have lost a greater 
percentage of their men than any one of 
the colonies. The world has never seen 
such fighting as the troops of Great 
Britain have had to stand up under, and 
full credit is always given the Colonials 
for their share. 

The Canadians particularly have dis- 
tinguished themselves. They share with 
the Foreign Legion alone the distinction 

[107] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

of never having been given an objective 
they have not taken. When the order 
came for the attack on Vimy Ridge it 
read: The Canadians will take Vimy 
Ridge at such and such an hour, and they 
took it on the dot. With the Canadians 
must be put the Anzacs, — AustraHans 
and New Zealanders, — examples of what 
universal mihtary training can do. 

Then there are the Indians, who never 
take a prisoner. By training and tradi- 
tion they are great head-hunters, and 
enjoy nothing better than creeping out 
at night over No Man's Land and wait- 
ing before the enemy's trench until a 
sentry puts up his head to observe. A 
quick sweep of the curved knife, the head 
is secured, and the Indian returns with 
the feehng of "something accomphshed, 
something done, has earned a night's 
repose." Their sense of humor has much 
in common with that of the Algerians — 
and of the Germans. 
C io8 ] 



EN REPOS 

Many of the heads, in all stages of 
curing, have been found in the knapsacks 
and equipments of these troops — when 
they were dead or unconscious. While 
conscious, the Indian will guard them 
with his hfe, feehng that they are legiti- 
mate souvenirs. 

X HERE are three French medals 
which are given for service in this war, 
not to mention a number of lesser ones 
which are seen rarely. The most coveted 
of these is the Legion of Honour, a medal 
famous for some centuries both in war 
and peace. This is divided into several 
classes. There is the Grand Cross of 
the Legion of Honour, a very large medal 
worn over the right-hand pocket with no 
ribbon. This has been awarded to a few 
men of the greatness of Joffre and Petain. 
Then there is the grade of Commander 
of the Legion of Honour, This is a smaller 
cross worn at the neck. There are also 

[109] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

the ranks of Officer and Chevalier. Both 
are small crosses on red ribbons, but the 
former has a rosette on the ribbon to 
distinguish it. These are awarded to 
officers only and are greatly prized. 

Two new medals were struck for the 
war, — the Medaille Militaire and the 
Croix de Guerre, The Medaille is a round 
medal on a yellow ribbon of one class 
only, and is awarded to officers and 
soldiers alike for actual bravery on the 
field. The Croix de Guerre is a bronze 
cross on a green and red ribbon, and 
has three classes, — the Croix de Guerre 
d'Armee, which has a bronze pahn on the 
ribbon, de Corps d'Armee, which has a 
bronze star on the ribbon, and de Division, 
which has a plain ribbon. They are 
awarded for different degrees of bravery 
or service to officers and soldiers alike, 
and may be won unlimited times. In 
aviation a Croix with palm is given to 
an aviator for every enemy plane he is 
[no] 



EN REPOS 

officially credited with downing. Thus 
Gynemer at the time of his death was 
privileged to wear fifty-five palms on his 
ribbon. For the benefit of such as he a 
silver palm is worn, representing five 
bronze, and a gold palm in place of ten 
bronze. Before this was allowed, Gyne- 
mer wore his ribbon with forty odd 
palms. 

In addition to these there are the 
colonial medals and a number of French 
decorations which have not strictly to do 
with the war. 

loNIGHT I am on guard. I have 
just taken a walk around the cars. It is 
the hour before the dawn, and the cold, 
grey mist hangs over all, robing the 
jagged ruins and harmonizing the rough 
outHnes into something more human, 
while accentuating the stare of the vacant 
window-openings. There is the first 
crescent of the moon in the sky. Two 

Cm] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

companies of artillery have just passed 
along the road. The guns and caissons 
creak and rumble, and the men, pre- 
serving a sleepy silence, bend forward 
on their horses, their heavy sabres smack- 
ing against the horses' sides, and their 
blue uniforms melting into the mist. 

The officer halts to water his horse, 
and we chat for a minute. The contre- 
avions are after a raider headed for Bar- 
le-Duc, and I put out my lantern. We 
smile as the shrapnel bursts more than 
a mile from the machine. The officer 
speaks a few words of praise about his 
men, then vaults on his horse. We ex- 
change ''bonne chance,'' and he canters 
off down the road, disappearing in the 
blue-grey mist. 



A 



RUMOR creeps into camp that 

the next attack will be at V . More 

rumors follow, supported by the increased 
traffic. We are on the main road to 

[112] 



EN REPOS 



V , and are keenly critical. We take 

out our maps and examine the outline 
of the front in the sector just as if 
we knew something about it. Would-be 
strategists hold forth in heated arguments, 
and many bitter debates follow. Those 
of us who have the early watch just 
at daybreak notice many companies of 
soixante-quinzes rumbling by each morn- 
ing, and observe that they take the left 
fork of the road. This is important, for 

the left road leads towards M , which 

is really not in our sector. More argu- 
ment follows, and ears are constantly 
strained to catch the first augmentation 
of the distant thunder of the guns, and 
to determine from which end of the 
sector it comes. 

Now all the officers admit that an 
attack is to ensue shortly, but they do 
not know when. We time up our cars 
and get our baggage ready, as we may 
be called. The Ueutenant receives some 

Cii3] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

orders and warns us to be ready to move 
on a moment's notice. 

The traffic is incessant now. Camions 
with shells, barbed wire, camouflage cloth, 
torpilles, and more shells rush by. Con- 
voys pass filled with troops, cheering 
wildly, thirty-five himdred or more in 
an evening. The thunder is gradually 
intensified, and the sky flashes faintly in 
the distance like heat lightning. From 
a hilltop artillery rockets and star-shells 
can be seen in the far horizon. More 
troops keep going up, and the guns pound 
the line with imabated fury. 

It is evening, and we are formed in a 
circle Hstening to some story. The Heu- 
tenant walks up to us: 

"We move at seven in the morning," 
he says laconically, and steps off. 



[ii4] 



IV 

AT THE FRONT 



± HIS time we have a different run. 
It is from MontzeviUe to Hill 289, and 
the wounded are brought in through the 
communication trench which leads to 
Mort Homme — the weU-named Dead 
Man's Hill. The road was once lined 
for a distance of perhaps a mile with 
towering poplars, evinced by the size of 
the stumps, but now not one of them 
is left higher than three or four feet. 
The road runs the entire distance across 
open meadows, and as what camouflage 
there was has been shot away by the 
Boche in his search for two 220 batteries, 
which have long since moved on, the 
enemy saucisses can regulate the traffic 
quite simply. The place has been shot 
up so much recently that there has been 
no time to repair the roads fully, and 
now there are long stretches temporarily 

[117] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

patched with rough, broken stone, which 
makes bad going. Riding forward, one 
sees large German shells breaking on the 
road ahead Hke sudden black clouds, 
which disappear slowly and convey to 
the mind uncomfortable premonitions. 

Mort Homme comes suddenly and 
bleakly into view about two kilometres 
on our left, — a hill, not exceedingly 
high, commanding a great plain, it is 
imposing only in the memory of the 
rivers of blood that have flowed down 
its sides. Once — and looking at it one can 
scarcely believe it — this was covered with 
trees and vegetation like many another 
less famous hill. Now it is reduced to a 
mere sandpile, pitted with the scars of 
a million shells. After standing the con- 
tinuous bombardment of both combat- 
ants for over a year, there is left not a 
stick of vegetation, nor an inch of ground 
that has not been turned over by shells 
many times. Crowned by the pink of 
Cii8] 



AT THE FRONT 

the sunset, it stands there on the plain a 
great monument to the glorious death 
of thousands. 

The French lost many thousands of 
Kves in their attempts to capture Mort 
Homme, and were very bitter, conse- 
quently, against its defenders. There 
was a large tunnel running through the 
hill, and when three sides had been cap- 
tured and both ends of the tunnel were 
held, it was discovered that they had 
trapped there three thousand Germans. 
I talked with a man who walked through 
the tunnel the day after the massacre and 
he told me that it was literally inches deep 
in blood. 

Arrived at the poste, which is nothing 
more than a hole in the ground, we stand 
around while the brancardiers load the 
car and exchange Hes with any one who 
happens to be there. The Boche sends 
a dozen or more shells whining over our 
heads to break on the road or beside it, 

C119] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

and near enough for every one to gravi- 
tate slowly towards the abri in prepara- 
tion for a wUd dive should the next sheU 
fall much nearer. One man asked me 
why they put stairs leading into an ahri, 
as nobody ever thought of using them. 
When I asked him how else one would 
get out, he said he had never thought of 
that. 

There is nothing quite so uncomfortable 
to hear as the near whistle of a shell. 
The more one hears the sound the more 
it affects him. There is something in 
the sharp whine which seems to create 
despair and induce subconscious melan- 
choly. There is a feeling of helplessness 
and powerlessness that is most depressing. 
The thunder of the guns or the crash 
of the bursting shells cannot be com- 
pared with the sound of this approach- 
ing menace. It is as if some demon 
from the depths of Hades were hurtling 
towards you, its weird laughter crying 

[ 120 ] 



AT THE FRONT 

out, calling to you and chilling your 
blood. For the second of its passage a 
hush falls on the conversation, and the 
best jokes die in dry throats. But it is 
only for that second, and instantly 
laughter rings out again at some jest. 
Speculations or comments are made on 
the probable or observed place where it 
exploded, and all is the same except for 
that subconscious tenseness which, for 
the most part umeaKzed, grips every man 
while he goes about his work here. 

The first ordeal by ^e is the easiest. 
It is then but a new and interesting sensa- 
tion and experience. Later, after one has 
seen the effect and had some close calls, 
it is more of a nervous strain. The whine 
of a shell is very high-pitched, and after 
a time the sound wears distinctly on the 
nerves. It is a curious fact that, in spite 
of the philosophy developed, the longer 
a man has been under shell-fire the harder 
it is for him to stand it. By no means 

[121] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

would he think of showing it, but he 
would not deny the fact. It is only the 
philosophy and callousness developed 
which keep the men from breaking down, 
and in many cases the strain on the nerves 
becomes so great that men do collapse 
imder it. This is one of the forms of so- 
caUed "shell-shock." 

The car loaded with blesses, we start 
back, driving more slowly this time, as 
precious Hves are in our care and jolts 
must be avoided wherever possible. We 
find the road still more "out of repair" 
than when we went over it before, with 
a number of new shell-holes varying from 
two to ten feet in diameter, and much 
wood, dirt, and torn camouflage strewn 
about, and often a horse lying where it 
was hit, its blood coloring the mud in the 
gutter. 

Approaching the town of Montzeville 
one sees at first a wood — ci-devant — now 
a few blackened tree-trunks of spectre-Kke 
[122 ] 



AT THE FRONT 

appearance against the grey of the even- 
ing sky. Behind these appears the town, 
a mass of jagged ruins, at that distance 
seeming to be absolutely deserted. In 
fact it is, except for the dozen odd men 
who hve in two or three scattered ahris 
for some obscure purpose. An air of deso- 
lation and despair broods over the place, 
and God knows it has seen enough to 
haunt it. 

From Montzeville we ride on to Dom- 
basle and Jouy, the hospital, and after 
handing over our more or less helpless 
charges to the tender mercies of the 
brancardiers, we return to the relay- 
station at Montzeville to wait for our 
next roll, and to wonder what possible 
good those poilus can be doing who sit 
all day so peacefully at the door of the 
ahri opposite ours, sipping Pinard and 
smoking their cigarettes. 



[123] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

X HE soldiers at the front are always 
looking for the bright side of life, and 
after a Kttle one gets to see humor in 
many more things than he would have 
beheved possible at home. As an ex- 
ample, there seems to be Kttle humor 
connected with a funeral, yet one of the 
times I saw the poilus most amused was 
one day at P 4, our relay-station, on 
such an occasion. 

There had been an intermittent bom- 
bardment, and we were sitting or stand- 
ing inside the ahri waiting for it to let 
up. The ahri was located in the comer 
of a graveyard, and there was always 
the unpleasant feehng that the next 
rain might wash a few bones in on us. 
The ahri was small, very crowded, and, 
as it was several feet underground, none 
too well ventilated. Every one spent 
long stretches here, and brought his food 
with him. What was too poor to eat 

[124] 



AT THE FRONT 

soon mixed with the mud on the floor, 
lending an unsavory odor to the atmos- 
phere. Presently one of the French- 
men went out to see if the bombardment 
had stopped. This is discovered by the 
same method one ascertains whether or 
not it is raining — if he gets wet the 
storm is not over. The bombardment 
was not over, and we waited. At last 
it seemed to have let up, only an occa- 
sional shell crashing into the woods 
across the road, and we went out to 
stretch and get a breath of air. 

The poilus gathered our inquisitive 
friend from the surrounding shrubbery 
and trees and put him into several empty 
sandbags which they laid on a stretcher, 
carefully placing the head, which appeared 
to have been soHd enough to withstand 
the shock, at the upper end. Another 
man carried a freshly-made pine-wood 
coffin. In high spirits, the assembled 
soldiers formed a procession and marched 

C 125 3 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

into the graveyard, singing alternately 
a funeral dirge and "Madelon," the 
French "Tipperary." This graveyard, 
not being on the firing-Kne itself, was 
rather a formal affair. The graves were 
laid out in neat rows, and each man had 
one all to himself with a wooden cross 
and his name on it. Of course occa- 
sionally the shells did a httle mixing, but 
that was a jest of the Fates which dis- 
turbed no one, least of all those who were 
mixed. 

Arrived at the grave, the poilus rolled 
in the fragments of our late friend and 
covered them with dirt. 

^'Not a drum was heard, not a funeral 
note.'* 

Then they came back, roaring with 
laughter and tossing the coffin in the air. 
The hero had expected the coffin and they 
had fooled him. Now they could use it 
again. 

C126] 



AT THE FRONT 

The usual method of burial on the 
French front, where there is little time to 
attend to such matters, is to dig a ditch 
six feet wide, ten feet deep, and twenty 
feet long approximately. As each man 
is killed, time and circumstances per- 
mitting, he is divested of his coat and 
shoes, and his pockets are emptied. He 
is then thrown into the ditch and covered 
with a few shovelfuls of dirt. This sys- 
tem is all very weU until new divisions 
reheve those in the trenches, and start 
digging ditches for their own men. As 
there are no marks to show the location 
of the old ones, they sometimes imcover 
rather unpleasant sights. 

The reputation we have gained at home 
of being cold-blooded and lacking in the 
finer senses is undeserved. While one is 
in it he cannot permit himself to reahze 
or dwell on the horrors or they would 
overwhelm him and drive him insane. 
What is more natural than for the reac- 

C 127] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

tion to turn the matter into jest and joke, 
to permit it to glance from the sm-face 
without inflicting a wound? — '^C'est la 
guerre,'' 

Jr LUNGED suddenly from the com- 
monplaces of peace into the seething 
cauldron of war, France has had to adjust 
herself. Every one without exception 
has lost many who were dear to him and 
much that he had considered essential. 
The homes and hopes of thousands have 
been blasted. Destruction, following in 
the wake of the invaders, has laid waste 
much of the land, in many cases irrep- 
arably. 

Entering the war a man is possessed of 
the greatest seriousness. He thinks of its 
causes, the results both immediate and 
future, and of the effect of each on him. 
He is stunned by what he beheves him- 
self to be bearing up under. Then, as he 
moves up into the zone, into service and 

C128] 



AT THE FRONT 

action, and sees how others are affected, 
how much suffering and misfortune come 
to them, he merges his troubles with 
theirs, reahzing the pettiness and insig- 
nificance of his own in the tout ensemble. 
He laughs, and from this laugh springs 
the philosophy, — ''C'est la guerre,'' 

If a fly falls in his soup, if his best 
friend is blown to bits before him, if his 
home and village are destroyed, he calmly 
shrugs his shoulders, and remarks, ''C'est 
la guerre.'' 

X HE roads at the front are cared for 
by a class of unsung heroes, the road- 
builders. Back of the lines German pris- 
oners are often used for this work, but 
it is a rule of warfare that prisoners must 
not be worked under fire, and the Alfies 
observe this as the other rules of civihzed 
warfare. The roads are the arteries 
of the front, and during an attack the 
enemy does his best to cripple them. If 

[129] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

he succeeds, the troops in the trenches, 
cut off from food, ammunition, and other 
suppHes, are at his mercy. During one 
attack through which I worked, the 
Boche, whose hobby is getting ranges 
down to the inch and applying them as 
all other things in a definite system, put 
a i5o every ten yards down the more 
important roads. 

All work in the zone is done by three 
classes of workers, excluding the necessary 
military operations carried on by the 
troops in action. First, there are the 
German prisoners who do every kind of 
work out of the zone of fire. Then there 
are the French prisoners in the army, 
who have committed some miHtary crime, 
from sneezing in ranks to shooting a 
colonel. Instead of serving time in a 
guardhouse, these are put in the front-hne 
trenches and kept there unarmed to build 
up the parapet, attend to the drains, stop 
Boche bullets, and perform other func- 
Ci3o] 



AT THE FRONT 

tions. If, for instance, a French soldier 
sends a letter through the civil instead 
of the military mails, where the censor- 
ship is more strict, he receives a thirty 
days' sentence. If these prisoners make 
a suspicious move they are shot by their 
own men. Second timers are rare, but 
many serve life sentences. 

Then there is the third class, a regular 
branch of the army, a subdivision of the 
engineers, termed pionniers. The engi- 
neers do the nastiest work in the army, 
and the pionniers do the nastiest work in 
the engineers. It is their duty to see 
that the wire is properly cut before a 
charge, that the parapet is in repair and 
does not lack sandbags, — and it is in 
this class that the roadbuilders come. 

All along the roads he piles of broken 
stone, which are continually replaced by 
loads from the rear. At intervals are 
placed ahris filled with roadbuilders who 
watch until a shell hits the road in their 

[i33] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

sector. Then, almost before the dirt 
settles, they rush out armed with shovels, 
and pile this rough stone into the hole 
and rush back again to shelter, to wait 
for the next shell, which is not long in 
coming. This rough patching is consoK- 
dated later when the sector quiets down, 
but does admirably for the time-being, 
as the mud and traffic push it rapidly 
into shape. 

Steam-rollers are then sent up to finish 
the work, but find themselves persona non 
grata when left over night in the middle 
of a narrow and muddy road, with no 
hghts showing. We ambulanciers are not 
fond of the species at any time, as they 
seem to have a great affinity for six-^ 
inch shells. When disintegrated, any one 
of the numerous parts blocks our way. 
We are perfectly content to have the 
task left to the simple roadbuilder, who 
proves less of an obstruction after meeting 
a one-fifty. 
Ci34] 



AT THE FRONT 



M 



ANY undeveloped instincts lie dor- 
mant in the subconscious mind of man. 
In this war, where man has turned back 
the pages of civiHzation to Kve and act 
for a period of time as a glorified cave- 
dweller, a number of these imknown facul- 
ties have been discovered and developed. 

Many animals have the power of seeing 
in the dark, and all species can sense an 
unknown danger. These senses have 
been denied to civihzed man, but the 
primitive life at the front has developed 
them and other instincts in those who Kve 
there so that it seems as if man might 
again become possessed of all his latent 
powers. 

A man going along a road has a con- 
viction that if he continues he will be 
killed. He makes a wide detour to avoid 
the road, and a shell strikes where he 
would have been. Then again, men have 
premonitions that they will be killed in 

[135] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

the next attack or battle. All this is 
coupled with absolute fataHsm. They 
feel either that they are going to be 
killed or will live through everything, and 
whichever it is, they merely slirug their 
shoulders, remark, ''Cest la guerre'' and 
permit nothing to alter their behef. 
Many say that the shell with their name 
on it has not yet been made, or if it has 
— ' ' Why worry ? We cannot escape it , " I 
carried one man, while doing evacuation 
work, who had served three years without 
a scratch, and when en repos had fallen 
from an apple tree and broken his leg. 
He thought it a great joke. 

The ambulancier has developed two of 
these instincts to quite a degree. The 
first is that he can always locate an ahri, 
his or some one else's, and disappear in 
it with astounding rapidity. The second 
is that he can keep the road with no 
lights. This has to be done almost en- 
tirely by instinct on many nights, and 
[i36] 



AT THE FRONT 

we find it usually safer to make a turn 
where the "inner voice" directs us rather 
than where we remember it should be. 
It is not remarkable, of course, that an 
occasional car falls into a ditch or a shell- 
hole, but astonishing rather how seldom 
this happens. While our Fords never 
attained any great speed in night driving, 
I rode once with a friend from another 
section in a Fiat, when he drove in pitch 
darkness faster than fifty miles an hour, 
taking every turn acciu-ately and safely 
by instinct and luck. 

X HE mud plays havoc with calcula- 
tions, and we long to set our foot once 
again on dry land. All the water in 
France seems to have gone into mud. 
Water has never been a popular bever- 
age here, and now it is even less so. One 
horrified poilu, who had observed me 
drinking a glass of water, asked if it did 
not give me indigestion. At the front 

[i37] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

there is good reason for this. With so 
many men bm'ied in the ground and so 
many animals uninterred on it, all the 
springs are contaminated, and the germs 
of every disease lurk in the water. 

The French army provides a Hght red 
wine to take its place. This wine is little 
stronger than grape juice and is the 
Pinard of the poilus. The government 
also provides tobacco which, to quote 
one ambulancier, cannot be smoked with- 
out a gas mask. 

The water in the streams is little better, 
and a bath in one of them gives more 
moral than physical satisfaction. One 
French artilleryman told me with great 
glee of seeing from his observation post 
a company of German soldiers marched 
down to a river for a bath. As soon as 
they were in the water he signalled the 
range to his battery, and they put a 
barrage between the bathers and their 
clothes. 

Ci38] 



AT THE FRONT 



Vi 



ERDUN is more than a name now — 
it is a symbol. France's glorious fight 
here with her back to the wall has gone 
down in history as a golden page. The 
foe thundered at the gates and the gates 
held, — held for months while the fate of 
France hung in the balance, and then 
opening, the hosts of France poured out 
and drove the foe back mile by mile, 
bitter miles. 

The city does not boast an unscarred 
building, but these wounds do not bleed 
in vain. For every one here there shall 
be two across the frontier when the day 
of reckoning comes. An awe-inspiring 
silence broods over the Httered streets. 
There are no civilians here now, but 
many soldiers, and as one walks an 
occasional cheer greets him, — " Vive 
rAmerique!'' 

The enemy has been driven back so far 
by this time that not more than half a 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

dozen vengeful shells a day are directed 
towards the violated cathedral, its sub- 
terranean vaults blown open and exposed, 
its walls struck, its windows shattered, 
and its roof fallen. A walk through this 
city, divided by the peaceful Meuse, would 
convince one, if nothing had before, that 
this war is not in vain, and that no force 
should be spared, no rest taken until the 
nation which has perpetrated these million 
crimes be crushed, that it may never strike 
like this again. 



A 



BATTLE is made up of a number of 
attacks, and a push consists of a number 
of battles. Consequently, each attack is 
most important as it is one of the single 
stones out of which the wall of the push 

is constructed. The taking of A was 

a small attack in itself, but it was a part 
of the foundation on which was built 
the great August push at Verdun. 

Our section rolled into a town about 
[i4o] 



AT THE FRONT 

four miles from A three days before 

the attack proper was scheduled to begin. 
We established our headquarters there, 
and our relay-station and poste de secours 
in the Hesse Forest, the latter just behind 
the third-line trenches. 

In the Champagne push the year before 
the French had not had nearly enough 
artillery support, and it had cost them 
many Kves. It is something one hears 
spoken of rarely. To avoid a repetition 
of this disaster they had massed for this 
attack in one wood six thousand guns 
varying in calibre from the famous yB's 
to several batteries of 38o's, moimted on 
a railroad a stone's throw from our sleep- 
ing quarters. However, as we had no 
time for sleep, it made little difference. 
The 75 is about a three-inch gun, and the 
38o, a sixteen approximately. 

Starting in three days before the attack, 
these guns began firing as steadily as they 
could without overheating. Very often 

[ i4i ] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

in our front ahri it was impossible to write 
because of tbe vibration. One day, when 
we stopped in the woods to change a 
punctured tire, the car was knocked off 
the jack by the shocks several times 
before we could remove the tire, and at 
last we had to rim in on the rim. 

Finally, just before the men were to 
go over the top, the barrage was set 
down in front of the trenches and the 
men climbed over the parapet, and started 
walking towards the enemy. It is always 
possible to tell the tir de barrage by the 
soimd of the guns. There is a certain 
regularity which is lacking when each 
gun is firing at independent targets, and 
the steady thunder gives one the feel- 
ing of a tremendous hammer smashing, 
smashing, irresistibly, each blow falling 
true and hard, and following one another 
with the regularity of the machines in a 
giant factory. 

A perfect barrage is impenetrable, with 

[142] 



AT THE FRONT 

the shells falling so near together and 
with such short intervals of time between 
that nothing can survive it. The only 
possibihty is the inaccuracy of some one 
or more guns which will put a number of 
shells out of the line and leave a break 
or opening. 

Before the attack the officers all have 
their watches carefully synchronized, as a 
mistake of one minute may cost many 
lives. Walking ahead of their men, keep- 
ing them the right distance behind the 
soHd wall of flame and steel, they wait 
until a certain minute when the barrage 
is Hfted a number of yards and then 
advance to that distance. In the orders, 
the minute the barrage is to be lifted and 
the distance are given out beforehand; 
for to advance the soldiers too quickly 
would be to put them rnider fire from 
their own grnis. 

In this attack the first wave passed 
over the destroyed wire, and on reaching 

C i43 ] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

the enemy's front-line trenches could not 
distinguish them from the rest of the 
ground, and found no Hving thing there. 
The second-hne trenches were little better, 
and they got their fighting at the third- 
line trenches. So perfect had the prep- 
aration and execution of this attack been 

that the Bois d'A was cleared of the 

enemy in thirteen minutes from the time 
the French left their trenches. 

The first wave is followed by the 
"butchers" (the EngHsh "moppers-up"), 
who kill all the wounded and the odd 
prisoners, it being impractical for a charg- 
ing fine to attempt to hold a few captives. 
Also another factor which makes this 
treatment of prisoners necessary, and 
which the AlHes have learned by expe- 
rience, is that unguarded men, once the 
first wave has passed over them, will 
take out a machine gun and catch the 
advancing troops between two fires. This 
happened a number of times before the 

Ci44] 



AT THE FRONT 

simple expedient was adopted of request- 
ing the prisoners to go down into an 
abri where they would be "safer," and 
then tossing in two or three grenades 
which kill and bury them at the same 
time. 

Of course the Boche was not idle in 
the meanwhile, and kept up a hail of 

fire from behind A Wood and Dead 

Man's Hill, which did not fall until two 
days later, and we had the benefit of this 
back on the roads as we tore from the 
relay-station to the poste, to the hospital, 
and back again, trying to take care of as 
many as we could of the countless 
wounded from the attack who were being 
brought in. French soldiers who had been 
in the war since 1914 said that they had 
never seen such fire. 

This run and the work through this at- 
tack were the most interesting of the ex- 
periences I had in the zone. We worked 
day and night, sleeping and eating at odd 

Ci45] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

moments and with long intervals be- 
tween, ceasing only when twelve of our 
cars had gone en panne, and half that 
number of drivers were in the hospital 
suffering from the new mustard gas which 
was showered on us in gas shells. We 
were tired indeed when reHeved for a 
short period en repos. 



Ci46] 



V 

L'ENVOI 



jtVN American army is in France. Old 
Glory is proudly floating above an armed 
host which has come to stand shoulder 
to shoulder with the AlKes, and do battle 
to prove that Right makes Might. We 
read in the papers of the ovations the 
troops receive, of the reviews, the presen- 
tations, the compliments, and the train- 
ing, and our hearts beat proudly because 
we too are Americans. We are non- 
combatants, to be sure, and are members 
not of the American army but of the 
French; yet, we are serving in the same 
cause, and, we hope, doing our bit towards 
the final victory. 

We know that sooner or later the entire 
American Field Service is to be absorbed 
by the American army, but as to when 
this is to come, and in what manner, 
we are ignorant. We debate often now 

[i5i] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

about these things, and wonder what 
effect the change is to have on us and on 
the section. Pessimist has picked up a 
riunor somewhere that we are to be 
turned out in a body, and that drivers 
who have been training at Allentown are 
to take our places. Cheerful Liar informs 
us that we are all to be made first Heuteh- 
ants, and that the section is to serve with 
the American troops. "Napoleon" thinks 
that we are to be discharged, and that 
French drivers who "know their business" 
are to take our places. Some one else 
says that we are all to be put in the 
trenches. No one knows anything defi- 
nite, and the chef and sous-chefs are be- 
sieged for information which they have 
not. The Assistant Inspector comes out 
to us and we know little more. American 
officers encountered in Bar-le-Duc can 
give us no information, and rumors, most 
of them originating in the section, con- 
tradict each other. 

[l52] 



l'envoi 



One evening a large Pierce Arrow pulls 
up beside our cars, parked in a walnut 
grove. Three American medical officers 
step out with clanking spurs, and we are 
all attention. The chef is called and we 
assemble. The officer in command makes 
a short speech. The section is to be taken 
over, he says, and those who remain must 
enhst as privates in the American army 
for the duration of the war. These men, 
having signed up, are then at the disposal 
of the Army, but will probably be kept 
in the Ambulance Service. The new 
officers are to be an American Heutenant, 
who will be our present chef, two sergeants, 
and a corporal. The section is to con- 
tinue to serve with the French army, but 
may be transferred to the new American 
front. 

We form small circles and discuss the 
situation. All the freedom and romance 
are gone, but many are going to stay. 
The rest have chosen aviation or artillery, 

[i53] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

and one or two may return home. The 
old volunteer Ambulance Service is dead, 
but the days we have Hved with it are 
golden, and nothing can ever take them 
away from us, or bring them back again. 

There is a little lump in each man's 
throat as he turns in tonight, but from 
now on we serve America, and any sacri- 
fice is worth that. And for the rest — 
''Cest la guerre. '' 

X HE participation of the United 
States in this war marks the time of 
this country's coming of age, and the real 
beginning of its work as one of the great 
world powers. Up to the War of the 
Revolution the thirteen colonies had more 
than enough on their hands in managing 
their own affairs. In the throes of that 
war the country was born, and slowly 
grew, feehng its increasing power which 
was never quite secure until the Civil 
War was at an end. Then, year by year, 
[154] 



l'envoi 



reaching out over the two continents of 
America, guiding and helping our weaker 
brothers in their affairs, gave us a founda- 
tion of courage and experience in the 
adolescent period before we were ready 
to stand forth staunch in oiu* beliefs and 
secure in our power to uphold them. 
That that time has come, and that the 
Old World, throwing down the gauntlet 
to the New, has found it unexpectedly 
ready, is shown by the presence of the 
Stars and Stripes on the battlefields of 
France. The mask of our isolation by 
the ocean, that time-worn excuse, has 
been rudely torn aside by modern inven- 
tions, and the affairs of Europe have 
become by their intimacy our own. In 
mingling with them as we were forced to 
do, one side was bound to transgress 
sooner or later — Germany did. And 
when Germany transgressed, America 
stepped across the bridge from youth to 
manhood, and picking up the iron gaunt- 

[i55] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

let proceeded to settle the question by 
force of arms, — the one indisputable 
argument. 

This war is to make Democracy secure 
only in that it is the continual struggle 
between the new and the old, a struggle 
whose issue is certain before the start — 
civiKzation moves to the west. 

America is the vanguard of the Eu- 
ropean civilization moving westward. 
It has taken the sum of the civilizations 
of the earth to bridge the chasm of the 
Atlantic. America is the last section of 
the circle of the world, which completed, 
civihzation moves back to its starting 
place. Power increases with civiKzation 
and, with each step civilization has taken, 
the conquests have been proportionate. 
Each has tried world conquest and failed, 
but each has come nearer and each time 
the world has been nearer ready to re- 
ceive it. The present war is the attempt 
of a representative of the civilization of 
[156] 



L ENVOI 

Europe to control the earth, and proving 
per se its unfitness to do so. 

Consequently, the relation of America 
to the War is that she is coming of age, 
and is at last ready to take her place 
among the great nations of the world 
as a power that can never again be dis- 
regarded, a mighty guardian of the Right. 



Aj 



.MERICA has been aptly called the 
Melting Pot. Since 1620, when the Pil- 
grims estabhshed their permanent colony 
at Plymouth, people from the Old World 
have been flocking to this country and 
becoming "Americans." Every country 
of the globe has sent its representatives 
— each a different metal to be merged 
with the others until the American 
should be as distinct a type as the Eng- 
hshman or Frenchman. At first there 
was natiu"al discord — each was a differ- 
ent metal in the melting pot, but as there 
was no heat, no fire, they could not 

[157] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

amalgamate. Then came the first blast 
of national fire — the Revolution, and in 
that, the first great struggle for Liberty, 
was moulded from the composite alloys — 
the American. The American as he came 
from the mould of the Revolution was 
the foundation on which the country 
rests, and although the descendants of 
those Americans are too few in number 
now to be more than a flux for the steady 
stream of metal as it pours from the pot, 
they can at least preserve the standard 
that their forebears passed down to them 
as the Golden Heritage, and be examples 
to these new and untried metals. 

In the War of 1812 and in the Civil 
War the new metals were amalgamated 
and tempered with the old, but since i864 
there has been no fire hot enough to 
mould together the millions who have 
sought the United States as a home. 
There has been no sword over our heads. 
There has been no great impending 
[i58] 



L ENVOI 

disaster, no danger to the country as a 
whole of great loss of Ufe or property, 
and our Liberty and our Honor have 
not been at stake as they are today. 

So it is now in this fierce blast from 
Hell's furnace, the Great War, that the 
National fire is rekindled and each metal 
is slowly sinking its own individuahty 
into the common form carefully stirred 
by the hand of the Almighty, and in the 
white heat, as the pure metal is tempered 
until it rings true and measures to the 
old standard, the slag is cast aside. Thus 
is America the Melting Pot. 

X ARIS is the place where everything 
begins and ends. From here during the 
four years of war there has been the con- 
stant departure of men bound for the 
great adventLue, and it is Paris that has 
received with open arms the greater bulk 
of the permissionnaires and the reformes. 
Gay, very gay on the surface, but below 

C i59 3 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

the crust it is the saddest of all places. 
When a man is in great agony he laughs. 
It is so with the great city, and the laugh 
of delirium is a poor sham indeed. 

The shortage of necessities has also 
been a damper on the city. In Neuilly, 
a suburb of Paris, a man was carrying a 
bag of coal. A few paces behind him 
a well-dressed woman was walking home. 
The man dropped a piece of coal from 
his sack and the woman eagerly picked 
it up and placed it in her gold bag. 

The war hangs over all in a dismal 
cloud and is in the back of every one's 
mind; although it is rare to hear it men- 
tioned it is always before one. There is 
no Parisian who has not lost some one 
very dear to him or her, and nineteen 
out of every twenty women are in deep 
mourning. The social activities, there- 
fore, are greatly curtailed, and the gay 
life is left only to the people of the street, 
the majority of whom have been driven 
[i6o] 



l'envoi 



to that life by the reaction of despair and 
sadness, and in lonesomeness seek the 
only companionship that they know. 

JL HE old chateau at 21, rue Raynouard, 
so kindly loaned to the American Field 
Service for its headquarters by the Com- 
tesse de la Villestreux, is a place of tradi- 
tions. The great Napoleon has walked 
here. Rousseau wrote part of his works 
here, and Franklin walked in the park 
daily while he was Ambassador to France. 

The park is the most extensive and 
beautiful within the fortifications of 
Paris, and contains the largest grove 
of chestnuts in the city. The water 
in the springs on the place was famous 
in the seventeenth century as the "eaux 
de Passy,'' 

In the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, 
located on the banks of the Seine, the 
place breathes an atmosphere of rest and 
beauty and solidity, springing from the 

C 161 ] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

traditions of age. The men of the Ameri- 
can Field Service, we who have had this 
place as the home to which we would 
return en permission, can never fully 
express our sincere gratitude to the Com- 
tesse de la Yillestreux and the other 
members of the Hottinguer family, who 
so graciously extended to us, Americans, 
the hospitality of their beautiful estate. 



A 



DREAM of a town, hot but not 
oppressive under the sun of the Midi, 
with quaint streets meandering through 
it, Httle blue tables set in the sunlight 
and a park filled with gay-colored soldiers 
and drab women, was my first impression 
of Bordeaux. Dilapidated fiacres in tow 
of hungry horses transport one from 
place to place, and give the newcomer 
his first taste of the haggling, without 
which a Latin would be disconsolate. 

For all its quaintness and simplicity 
it is as much a "pay as you enter" city 

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l'envoi 



as the rest, and even in the park should 
one sit upon an iron seat instead of a 
wooden one there is an indemnity of 
two sous extracted and a further sou 
should the seat possess arms. A damsel 
in black then presents a ticket which 
entitles the possessor to hold down the 
seat as long as he comfortably can. The 
military may sit free, however, if they 
know it; but the new arrivals do not, 
and the park fund increases. 

Bordeaux on my return I foxmd to be 
quite Americanized. The quiet uniforms 
of our soldiers were neutralizing the 
bright reds and blues of our ally. The 
little blue tables were often covered by 
a khaki arm, and many new signs pro- 
claimed "American Bar," those houses 
which had speciaHzed in German beers 
before the war having painted "Ameri- 
can" over the name of the Rhine country. 

There is a large American hospital here 
completely equipped and ready to receive 

[i63] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

and take good care of the flood that will 
soon be pouring in. An American private 
telephone Hne has been built to Paris by 
Americans, and with our gradual assimi- 
lation of the railway system of France we 
are "carrying on" well from here. 

X HE American Ambulance, the Ameri- 
can Field Service as it was in the old 
days, is dead. The spirit of bonne cama- 
raderie and intimacy which each member 
felt for the others; the time when, mem- 
bers of no army, we served with the 
French, on equal terms with the poilus 
in the trenches and the officers on the 
staff; when, responsible to no one, we 
served the cause and the god Adven- 
ture, content with the past and with no 
thought for the morrow, — has passed. 
With the coming of army discipHne and 
system, with governmental organization 
and routine, the old days are gone. We 
are sorry, selfishly, to see them go; but 
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l'envoi 



we cannot and would not have it other- 
wise. The Ambulance Service is now 
proudly enrolled under Old Glory, and 
is broader and greater than it ever could 
have been as a volunteer organization. 
We rejoice that it is so, and are proud 
that we have been a part of it. So, hail 
to the new United States Army Am- 
bulance Corps! The men of the Old 
Ambulance salute you! 



A 



LITTLE group of us stands together 
in the darkness, with the deck rising and 
falling beneath our feet. We are silent 
and pensive. The last hghts of Bordeaux 
are fading in the mist, and with them 
France. The boat has been running up 
and down the wide harbor all day, and 
now in the darkness is making a dash 
for the open sea, hoping to outwit the 
enemy lurking in the depths. 

Up there, far to the north of those 
lights, the great guns thunder and the 

[i65] 



THE WHITE ROAD OF MYSTERY 

sky glimmers with star-shells. Men are 
fighting, and struggKng, and dying, and 
laughing over their Pinard, but it is not 
for us. We have finished for a while. Of 
course we are coming back, but furlough 
is not offered often enough to be refused 
lightly. We feel a queer mixture of sad- 
ness, and happiness, and rehef. The life 
has worked its way into our hearts, and 
the call to return rings in our ears. But 
the relief from the tenseness and the 
joy of anticipation of America and Home 
exceeds aU else. The wind blowing across 
the waves starts somewhere in America, 
and we take deep breaths. Soon we shall 
be home, shall see our friends, and shall 
lead a hfe of luxurious ease again for a 
short space of time. 

We walk around the deck and then, 
taking out our pipes, settle down in our 
steamer chairs and puff thoughtfully. AU 
is peace and qfaietness here, the spray 
breaking over the bow and the waves 
[i66] 



L ENVOI 

lapping against the sides. It is hard to 
realize that the earth is shaking in a 
cataclysm only a little north, but we 
know that this must be endured until 
the power of Germany is destroyed — 
that the world may be as peaceful as is 
the sea tonight. 



[167] 



GLOSS-\RY 



\^The meaning of the words ds given in this Glossary is 
that which holds in the army at the front and sometimes 
conflicts with the meaning as given in the dictionary.'} 



Abri 


dug-out 


Ambulancier 


ambulance driver 


Argot 


slang 


Arrivee 


an enemy shell 


Assis 


a wounded man able 




to sit up 


Blesse 


wounded man 


Bonne camaraderie 


good'fellowsh ip 


Bonne chance 


good luck 


BOYAUX 


communication 




trench 


Brancardier 


stretcher-bearer 


Briquet 


pocket lighter 


Camion 


truck 


Camionnette 


small truck 


Chef 


first lieutenant 


CONDUCTEUR 


ambulance driver 


CONTRE-AVION 


anti-aircraft gun 




[171] 



GLOSSARY 



COUCHE 

Croix de guerre 
Depart 

Dud 

Eclat 

En Panne 
En Permission 
En Repos 
estaminet 
Major 
Malade 

Marechal des logis 
Mauvais temps 
Medaille militaire 

MlNNIEWERFER 
MORT HoMME 

Musette 
Peloton 
Permission 

C 172 ] 



a wounded man ly- 
ing down 

war cross 

a shell fired towards 
the enemy 

a shell which does 
not explode 

shell fragment 

breakdown 

on furlough 

on a rest 

cafe 

army surgeon 

sick man 

French petty officer 

rainy season 

military medal 

German trench mor- 
tar 

Dead Man's Hill 

haversack 

section 

furlough 



GLOSSARY 


Permissionnaire 


man on furlough 


PiNARD 


wine 


PlONNIER 


a branch of the En- 




gineers 


POSTE DE SeCOURS 


front dressing sta- 




tion for wounded 


Ravitaillement 


provisioning 


Reforme 


soldier discharged on 




account of wounds 


Roll 


to drive 


ROTI 


shell which does not 




explode 


Saucisse 


observation balloon 


Soixante-quinze 


7 5 mm. shell 


SOUS-CH hlK' 


second lieutenant 


Straf 


to shell (literally, to 




curse) 


TiR DE BARRAGE 


barrage fire 


TORPITJ.F. 


trench mortar shell 


Verboten 


forbidden 


ViLTiE HAUTE 


upper city 



[173] 



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